
BIRD 

Legend *»■> life 




llargaret*Coulson»Wklke 




Copyright W_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 




Photograph by A. Hyatt VerrUI 



ACADIAN OWL 



From that day to this she and her descendents, ashamed of their bent 
noses and flattened faces, have hidden themselves in lonely places." 



Bird Legend and Life 



BY r 

MARGARET COULSON WALKER 

Author of 
"Birds and Their Nestlings" 

AND 

Lady Hollyhock and Her Friends" 



Among the Romans not a bird 
•Without a prophecy was heard; 
Fortunes of empires often hung 
On the magician magpie's tongue." 



NEW YORK 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 

1908 



LIBRARY Of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

NOV 2 1S08 

Copyright Entry 

CLASS JL. XXc, No, 

C< >PV B, 



Ay 



Copyright, 1908 

BY 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 



Published October, 1908 



THE PREMIER PRESS 
NEW YORK 



O ye delicious fables, where the wave 

And the woods were peopled, and the air, with things 
So lovely I Why, ah ! why has science grave 

Scattered afar your sweet imaginings ? 

Barry Cornwall. 



FOREWORD 

BELIEVING that bird lovers generally will be inter- 
ested in the literary history of these objects of their 
affection, the author has endeavored to get together 
the most important avian legends and superstitions and also 
to discover in them evidences of apparent truth. Some of 
the most agreeable and interesting legends of the past were 
gathered about these guests of our groves whose actions 
formed the basis of innumerable fancies and superstitions. 

Birds exercised a strong influence on prehistoric religion, 
having been worshiped as gods in the earlier days, and, 
later, looked upon as living representatives of the higher 
powers. The Greeks went so far as to attribute the origin 
of the world itself to the egg of some mysterious bird. 

Then in the days when mortals did not die at all, but 
"passed," these small creatures, flitting about among the 
trees, represented to those inhabiting the earth the visible 
spirits of departed friends. The Aztecs believed that all 
good people, as a reward of merit, were metamorphosed at 
the close of life into feathered songsters, and as such were 
permitted to pass a certain term in the beautiful groves of 
Paradise. To them, as to all North American Indians, thun- 
der was the cloud bird flapping his mighty wings, while the 
lightning was the flash of his eye. The peoples of other coun- 
tries believed that the higher powers showed their displeasure 

ix 



FOREWORD 

by transforming wrongdoers into birds and animals as a 
punishment for their crimes. 

In all lands birds were invested with the power of proph- 
ecy. They were believed to possess superior intelligence 
through being twice born, once as an egg and again as an 
animal. Because of their wisdom, not only they, but their 
graven images also, were consulted on all the important 
affairs of life. 

The chief birds of portent were the owl, the raven and 
the woodpecker, though there were a number of others on 
the prophetic list. It will be remembered that Coleridge 
made the omen of a bird the leading motive of his poem. 
Many nations, notably the Japanese, are still believers in 
the direct communication between man and unseen beings, 
through birds and other agents. In Japan birds are re- 
garded as sacred, and for this reason the agriculturist gladly 
shares with them the fruit of his toil. 

While we of to-day attach no supernatural significance 
to the presence of these feathered creatures, and even though 
to us they possess no powers of prophecy, we can find a great 
deal of pleasure in observing these beings whose boding cries 
were regarded as omens by the greatest of earth-beings, whose 
actions in Vespasian's time were considered of vital national 
importance. An eagle perching on his tent proved to the 
people that beyond a doubt a true Judean ruler had been 
found. 

Aside from their historic and literary interest these mul- 
titudinous and often contradictory legends and superstitions 
are of interest to us as a part of the faith of our fathers, 
much of which, combined with other and higher things, is 
in us yet. These beliefs of theirs, like many of what we are 



FOREWORD 

pleased to think our original ideas and opinions of to-day, 
were hereditary and largely a matter of locality. 

An interest in bird life, once quickened, is destined to 
live always. As you become better acquainted with them, 
may these inhabitants of the air, regarded with respect and 
confidence by all nations of antiquity, prove equally inter- 
esting to you and a source of perennial pleasure; may their 
presence be ever significant of good, and may their voices 
bode you no misfortune. 

The Author. 



XI 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Foreword . . ix 

Legend of the Owl 5 

Owl Life . . . . 6 

Origin of the Wren . . . . . 27 

Wren Life 31 

Legend of the Eagle 43 

Eagle Life 44 

The Origin of Swallows 55 

Swallow Life . . . . . . . .56 

The Origin of Magpies . . . . 71 

Legend of the Magpie's Nest Building 72 

Magpie Life ...... 75 

The Origin of the Kingfisher 85 

The Lone Fisher 91 

The Origin of the Hawk ..... 117 

Hawk Life 122 

How the Buzzard or Vulture Was Clothed . .135 

Vulture Life 139 

Genesis of the Robin . . . . . .147 

Robin Life ........ 153 

xiii 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Raven or Crow in Literature . . . .167 

Crow Life 174 

Origin of the Woodpecker 187 

Woodpecker Life 191 



BIRD LORE 

Owl Lore 203 

Wren Lore 207 

Eagle Lore 212 

Swallow Lore 214 

Magpie Lore 216 

Robin Lore 218 

Raven Lore 222 

Woodpecker Lore 227 



xiv 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Acadian Owl Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Screech Owl , . 6 ^ 

Screech Owl Awakening 10 y 

Great Horned Owl . . . . . . 14 * 

Young Acadian Owl 18-' 

Screech Owl Awake and Asleep . . . 22 ^ 

Wren Scolding 28/ 

Wrens at Home 32- 

The Eagle and His Mate at Home . . . 44- 

Eagle's Talon 48- 

Nests of Cliff Swallows Under Eaves of Cabin . 56 

Young Cliff or Eave Swallows . . . . 60 - 

Young Bank Swallows 64 " 

The Magpie, The Scandal of the Grove . . . 72 

Magpie's Nest 76^ 

Young Magpies Just Out of the Nest . . 80 - 

The Lone Fisher 86 y 

Kingfisher Excavating the Dwelling . . 92 < 

Young Kingfishers 102 r 

xv 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Young Kingfisher Family 
Kingfisher's Youth .... 
The Angry Tereus as He Looks Today 
Nest of the Red-Tailed Hawk . 
The Hawk Spreading Over Prey . 
Young Red- Shouldered Hawks . 
Turkey Vulture .... 
Young Turkey Vulture 
Robin Feeding Young 
Robin Inspecting Young 
Young Robins Roosting . 
The Many- Wintered Crow . 
Young Crows ..... 
Flicker Bearing Food to His Young . 
Flicker Feeding His Young . 



FACING PAGE 



XVI 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 



Mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight! 

The owl hath his share of good : 
If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight, 

He is lord in the dark greenwood ! 
Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate, 

They are each unto each a pride; 
Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate 

Hath rent them from all beside. 

Bryan W. Proctor (Barry Cornwall). 



LEGEND OF THE OWL 

(ESKIMO) 

IN the old days when mortals were sometimes changed 
into other creatures if they happened to do anything 
to displease certain wicked fairies who seemed to be 
always conveniently near and ready to take offense, a wise 
and beautiful maiden did something to incur the enmity of 
one of these powerful beings and was immediately changed 
by her into a bird. 

The once beautiful nose of the maiden became a hard 
beak; her eyes grew round with fright; the tender nails 
on her feet became long and horny and hooked ; while from 
every pore in her body graying feathers started. Worst 
of all she knew that the spell cast over her could never be 
broken; she must remain as she was for all time — she and 
her children's children. 

Blind with terror, she flew frantically and aimlessly 
about for hours, heedless of everything save her awful condi- 
tion. Her wild wandering continued till, striking with great 
force against the hard ice-built wall of an igloo, her horny 
beak was bent and her face flattened by the blow. A cry of 
agony escaped her — a cry oft repeated through the night — 
a cry which henceforth was to be her only means of expres- 
sion; and though she had the feet and feathers and wings 
of a bird, she still had the face of a mortal — flattened and 
with affrighted eyes. 

From that day to this, she and her descendants, who 
could not be even as other birds, ashamed of their bent noses 
and flattened faces, have hidden themselves, making their 
homes in hollow trees, or in lonely barns or belfries, going 
abroad only in the darkness, out of which sometimes come 
their ghostly, boding cries to warn us of its dangers. 

5 



OWL LIFE 

WHEN the silence of the summer night is disturbed 
only by the ethereal music of myriads of insects, 
and by occasional breezes rustling through the 
leaves — and the stealthy movements of nocturnal feeders on 
the herbage beneath — 'tis then that the ghost walks — then 
that the weird wail of the owl is heard boding misfortune to 
the vast army of rats and mice, bats and moles, beetles and 
crickets, and other small night prowlers who fare forth at that 
time to seek their food. To them her supernatural, startling 
cry is a portent of woe, a certain harbinger of approaching 
death — a death that must occur that the owl and her family 
may live, for it is on these small creatures that she feeds and it 
is these that she carries to her young. 

In the early twilight, the hour when moths fly hum- 
ming, the owl and her mate leave the woodland retreat where 
they have spent the day in slothful slumber and go forth 
into more open places, each seeking some solitary post of 
vantage where she perches to watch for tiny field mice who 
may be walking abroad in the twilight in quest of succulent 
roots and grasses; or for unwary young rabbits who have 
come out to nibble the plantains; or possibly a toad who 
may be dampening his warty back in the dewy herbage. 

As one of these approaches, silently sits the owl, ap- 
parently dozing, but really with every sense alert, till the 

6 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 



SCREECH OWL 



On seeing her sitting close to the hole of a tree where, with 
her protective coloration, she might easily be mistaken for a 
knot, we readily recognize the flattened face of the erstwhile 
maiden, with its close-pressed nose and affrighted eyes.' 



OWL LIFE 

faint sound of parted grasses, or a barely perceptible stir of 
leaves below, causes her, after a first quiver of excitement, 
to drop seemingly without motion upon her quarry, when, as 
it is tightly clasped in her claws, her sharp talons pierce its 
vitals, causing instant death. 

Her smaller prey she carries to her perch, where, after 
a moment, it is tossed up with her beak and caught in its 
descent and swallowed whole. Larger animals, such as 
young squirrels, chipmunks and gophers, are dismembered 
and swallowed piecemeal. After a time the indigestible por- 
tions of all food are ejected in the form of compact pellets 
or "owl balls." Sometimes as many as a bushel of these are 
found in and around the nest. 

The dietary range of the owl is not confined entirely to 
four-footed creatures : the fat beetle and night-flying moths 
are dainty morsels which she especially values as food for the 
owlets in the nest. Occasionally young birds are eaten, but 
not often. In winter, when other food is scarce, she is not 
averse to young barnyard fowls, for which the owner is amply 
repaid by the sendee rendered in ridding the place of mis- 
chievous vermin. 

As the owl goes on her way — flying low, just above the 
lower bushes, or close to the ground in the open — her muf- 
fled wings make no sound. As with noiseless flight she 
moves forward in sidelong fashion in search of small animals, 
her gaze is turned on every moonlit spot where they may 
possibly be feeding, and on every patch of shadow where 
these tiny refugees, having heard her distant cry, may be 
claiming the right of sanctuary till her gruesome presence 
has passed. Aided by silence and partial darkness, the cap- 
ture of her prey is almost certain. Sometimes, with a fear- 
some cry, she casts a necromantic spell over these creatures 

9 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

on the ground, fastening them to the spot, when they are 
easily picked up. In this way she rids our fields of what 
might become troublesome pests if not held in check, thereby 
insuring the proper balance of nature. 

The call of the owl, heard most frequently in the early 
part of the nights of late spring and early summer, when the 
young are in the nest, seems to be a cry of recognition or 
salutation between mates or parent birds and their young, 
calling to each other in a tongue meaningless to us, but full 
of purport to them. There is no more blood-curdling sound 
in all nature than the quivering wail of the great horned owl 
beginning on a high key and with a piercing tremolo running 
down the scale — a sound, once heard, never to be forgotten. 
It is like the scream of a woman in terrible agony. To one 
hearing it, the Eskimo story is plausible enough, for nothing 
less than a crushed face could call forth such a shriek. 

On seeing the owl issuing from her hole in a tree or 
sitting on a limb close to its bole, where, with her protective 
coloration, she might easily be mistaken for a knot, we read- 
ily recognize the flattened face of the erstwhile maiden, with 
its close-pressed nose and affrighted eyes, and as she moves off 
across the wood her stunned, staggering flight, also, tells of 
the misfortune from which the years have not aided her in 
recovering. 

In every land some of her descendants may be found, 
in all some two hundred species, and although they differ 
somewhat in size and in color, they each and every one bear 
the marks— in appearance, expression and nature of the 
calamity that befell their earliest progenitor — the flattened 
face, the pained human voice, the shrinking habits. 

The most common forms in America are the speckled 
buff barn, or monkey-faced owl — belonging to a family dis- 

10 




Photograph by 

SCREECH OWL AWAKENING 

"At nightfall we hear her soliloquy of comfort 
as she snuggles close to her dormitory bough 
for a final nap after a day of deeper slumber." 



OWL LIFE 

tinct from the others — and the various species of the horned 
and hoot owls. 

The barn owl is the one which most commonly frequents 
European ruins and which has been such a fruitful source 
of romantic inspiration to the poets. She is most common in 
the southern portion of our country, being rarely found north 
of Massachusetts. 

The screech owl — this is a misnomer, for her cry is more 
of a melancholy call or tremulous sob than a screech — is found 
all over the United States. In autumn it appears to be most 
abundant owing to the necessity of its coming near our habi- 
tations at that time in quest of the food which earlier in the 
season is to be found in the fields. The voracious appetite of 
this little owl renders her an invaluable farmer's assistant. 

A declining sun rouses her from her slumbers and sends 
her forth to seek food for herself and young, for whom she 
provides bountifully. An old apple orchard is the most 
promising place to look for her nest — in a hole made by the 
decay of a dead branch — though it is often found elsewhere. 

At nightfall we may hear her soliloquy of comfort as 
she snuggles close to her dormitory bough for a final nap 
after a day of deeper slumber. Her comfortable "oo-oo-oo" 
is strongly suggestive of the enjoyment one has in his pillow 
on a crisp morning after he knows it is time for him to be 
up and doing. 

However much the owl may enjoy the slothfulness of 
the home perch, it does not take her long to throw off her 
drowsy feeling, for by the time the fireflies have lighted their 
evening lamps she is alert and abroad. Should she go forth 
earlier or on cloudy days, as she sometimes does, she would 
more than likely be pursued and attacked by other birds who 
regard her as an enemy. In spirit, the jay, the chickadee and 

13 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

the red thrush call out with Richard III, ''Out on ye, owls!" 
and quickly drive her into cover — if she is sufficiently awake 
to make her escape. A cry of alarm from any one of these 
birds assembles an attacking army in an incredibly short 
time. If unable to escape, their victim lies flat on her back 
and, while protected in the rear by the ground, turns to the 
enemy an armed front of claws and beak. The jay, who 
regards her at all times as an especial enemy, selects the eye 
of the owl as a particularly vulnerable point and does his 
best to reach it. 

The long-eared owl, another common form, is strictly 
nocturnal in her habits, though the short-eared, which is 
equally common, frequently goes mousing on cloudy days. 
The former, possessing little architectural ability, often takes 
for her home the lofty deserted nest of a hawk, crow or 
squirrel, while the latter, the least owl-like of all the owls, 
makes her home on the ground on a high spot in a grassy 
marsh. 

The barred, or hoot owl, which in the United States is 
by far the most common of the larger owls, is especially 
marked by the absence of horns and by its dark eyes. Its 
call, "whoo-whoo-whoo-who-whoo," with variations and ab- 
breviations, Mr. Frank Chapman likens to deep-voiced, 
mirthless laughter. He has heard two of these birds in con- 
certed performances, one uttering about ten rapid hoots, 
while the other, in a slightly higher tone, hooted half as fast, 
both performers ending together with a "whoo-ah." In Iowa 
their weird shrieks are often heard during the early sum- 
mer, but more often in the fall. 

The largest and finest of all the owls is the great horned 
owl — the most majestic of her kind — who measures full 

14 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 

GREAT HORNED OWL 

Young of the " Great Horned Owl who 
has the wildest, most piercing shriek." 



OWL LIFE 

twenty-two inches and who has the wildest, most piercing 
shriek. 

The smallest, most lovable and least shy of this inter- 
esting family is the Acadian or saw- whet, so called from his 
cry, which is supposed to resemble the sound made in sharp- 
ening a large saw. This little fellow is attractive in every 
way: in dress — cinnamon brown streaked with white; in 
manner — most friendly, and, late in the season, in voice, for 
then his saw-whet tones have softened into a gentle moan. 
This queer sound that he makes is said to be his amatory note, 
and, while as an expression of affection it is not exactly in 
line with our ideals, it ought to be as effective a love song 
as the rolling tattoo of the woodpecker. 

Owls, who are said to mate for a lifetime, and who are 
believed never to prove unfaithful to their choice, come to 
us with the earliest promises of springtime — when all nature 
is silent except for the breaking up of the coverings on her 
ice-locked streams and the creaking moan of bare boughs 
tossed about by the winds. Immediately they seek a home 
in some hollow tree, or in a deserted hawk's, crow's or squir- 
rel's nest. The great horned owl, the first of the family to 
pay heed to vernal promises, seeks her nest as early as the 
latter part of February, and is followed by the barred owl 
early in March and the screech owl and the long-eared early 
in April. The eggs of all are pure white with a dull, rough 
surface, and the owlets which come from them, fluffy balls 
like powder-puffs. 

While the young are in the nest, the parent birds are 
most devoted. When the red thrush is singing her even-song, 
and when swallows are darting about in pursuit of the belated 
insects of the day or those called out by evening damps, the 
waning light brings back sight to the sleep-glazed eye of 

17 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

the owl, who is forced to be most active then in seeking food. 
Inactivity comes again with total darkness, when the owl 
again takes to her perch till the moon rises or dawn brings 
again the half light that sharpens owl vision. Bright moon- 
light nights are seasons of especial prosperity to the owls; 
for it is then that they see best — then that they bring most 
food to the owlets — then that the pellets of beetles' wings, 
bones, feathers and fur are heaped in the nest, making it 
more soft and comfortable, for as often as every five minutes 
the parent birds return to the nest bearing the fruit of their 
search. Through their agency, every ten or fifteen minutes a 
destructive mouse goes to his reward, and the hungry owlets 
in the tree are filled with gustatory gladness. Much food 
is required by the growing nestlings, and, as they become 
older, bones and feathers are just as necessary a part of it 
as the flesh, for it has been proven that owls cannot live on 
boneless meat. 

Even though food should prove scarce, maternal anxiety 
and the infant plaints of her babes take the owl home every 
so often through the night that the safety of her brood may 
be assured. While parental devotion is at its height, the 
cares of motherhood are materially lightened by the unfailing 
fidelity of her mate, who does not spend all his time in 
sapiently staring at the moon, as the poets would have us 
believe. 

The young family makes just as heavy a draft on his 
time as on hers. This division of labor is well, for one of 
them could hardly supply the wants of such a ravenous group 
for such an extended period as the little ones remain in the 
nest — nine or ten weeks ; at least, it is that long before they 
leave the branches immediately surrounding their home. 

The rising sun causes the owl, with feathers bedraggled 

18 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 

YOUNG ACADIAN OWL 

; One of the little ones, dozing on a limb, will look like 
nothing more than a sleepy small boy in his 'nighties.' " 



OWL LIFE 

and wet with dew, to seek shelter for the day on a limb close 
to the bole of some dense tree, where, after making an in- 
different toilet, she sits with elongated body and close-drawn 
feathers, looking quite like the weather-worn bark. Thus she 
escapes the notice of the feathered hordes who might attack 
her. After a close search here is where we are most likely to 
find her, with tail close pressed to the limb in the shrinking 
but vertical attitude common to all owls, faithfully standing 
guard over the nest. 

If we are fortunate enough to find in the evergreens 
the different members of an Acadian family in a secluded 
spot favorable to thought, the mother, with wide-open eyes, 
will be the picture of wisdom and a fit companion for Minerva 
or Pallas Athene, while one of the little ones, dozing on a 
nearby limb, will look like nothing more than a sleepy small 
boy in his "nighties"; and the sound he makes will tell you 
plainly that he prefers the sandman's presence to yours. If 
you are gentle and sympathetic with him, however, he may 
reward you by showing his confidence in you by going to 
sleep in your hand — this "little downy owl." 

With feathers fluffed out the owl looks as large and 
comfortable as other birds, though she is really nothing but 
feathers and bones. This is why she seems so buoyant in 
flight, with no suggestion of weight, and why with body con- 
tracted she moves so silently along, her soft, light feathers 
never cutting the air and making such sounds as are made 
by the heavier birds with stiffer feathers. With no flesh on 
her bones, perhaps "the owl for all her feathers is a-cold." 

The eye of the owl is set solidly in its socket and is not 
movable like the eyes of other birds; and for this reason, 
when looking at anything it is necessary for her to move her 
whole head from side to side — a habit no doubt for which 

21 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

she is accredited in some localities with being a metamor- 
phosed weaver. 

Throughout the ages no bird — with the exception of the 
raven — has claimed the interest of or had a greater influence 
upon man than the owl, and even to those entirely devoid of 
superstition there is no sound in all nature so capable of call- 
ing up a horde of nameless fears as the weird cry of this 
strange creature haunting the moonlight and the dusk, whose 
presence lends a picturesque note to the landscape and calls 
into being fancies of ruins and desolation. 

When the nature lover goes out under the stars to enjoy 
the purifying, uplifting moonlight, and to listen to the pleas- 
ure-yielding voices of the night — crickets tuning their violins, 
frogs singing in far-away marshes, the humming of moths, 
the call of the katydid — each separate and distinct, with their 
almost imperceptible undersong of the blended voices of 
countless smaller insects and the soft sound of leaves and 
grasses swayed by the breezes — the influences of the hour 
awaken poetic fancies, which bear him away from earth and 
its cares into the ethereal realm of dreams. 

Suddenly the spell of exaltation — or possibly it may be 
only a feeling of tranquil enjoyment — is broken by a sound 
coming out of the shadows and reminding him of the ter- 
rors of the night, before unthought of; then the nocturnal 
wanderer, even though he knows that the warning shriek is 
but voicing the unconscious memory of a long-ago past, is 
thankful that home is near and hurriedly seeks safety in its 
shelter. 

"It was the owl that shrieked ; the fatal bellman 
Which gives the sternest 'good-night.' " 



22 




Photograph by James H. Miller 

SCREECH OWL AWAKE AND ASLEEP 

The eye of the owl is set solidly in the socket, and is not movable 
like the eyes of other birds; and for this reason when looking at 
anything it is necessary for her to move her head from side to side." 



I took the wren's nest ; 

Heaven forgive me! 

Its merry architects so small 

Had scarcely finished their wee hall, 

That, empty still, and neat and fair, 

Hung idly in the summer air. 

The mossy walls, the dainty door, 

Where Love should enter and explore, 

And Love sit caroling outside, 

And Love within chirp multiplied — 

I took the wren's nest ; 

Heaven forgive me! 

How many hours of happy pains 
Through early frosts and April rains, 
How many songs at eve and morn 
O'er springing grass and greening corn, 
What labors hard, through sun and shade, 
Before the pretty house was made! 
One little minute, only one, 
And she'll fly back, and find it — gone ! 

I took the wren's nest ; 

Bird, forgive me! 

Dinah Maria Mulock. 



25 



ORIGIN OF THE WREN 

IN" the far-away time when marvelous things occurred, one 
day, as an impetuous youth of Heidelberg lay idly 
dreaming and pondering under an oak, a beautiful 
maiden crept forth from a great hole in the trunk of the 
tree and stood smiling at him. The youth immediately arose 
and made love to her, as was the custom in those days, and 
his love was immediately returned, and they promised to be 
true to each other forever and ever. But the maiden con- 
fided to him that she belonged to the race of Dryads and 
warned him that on that account he must never show anger 
to her — even a slight manifestation of this malignant pas- 
sion would entail on her a diminution in size; and anything 
like violent rage would reduce her to a limit from which there 
could be no recovery. 

All went well with the lovers till one evening he, coming 
much earlier than usual to the tryst — though he thought it 
was later — found no maiden at the trysting place, whereupon 
he fell into a wrathful passion and uttered bitter words. 

When at the proper moment the maiden weepingly ap- 
peared she at once began to shrink and continued shrinking 
till she was no larger than a mouse. Wishing to escape from 
one who had so wronged her, her wishes gave her wings, 
when, as a wren, with an angry chirp, she flew away. 

n 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Another story is told in many lands of how a wren, pos- 
sibly a descendant of this one — for it surely had human in- 
telligence — became the king of birds. 

It was resolved in the time "when men were as animals 
and animals as men" that he should be king who could fly 
the highest. The eagle, who everyone thought would win, 
in full confidence of victory, immediately began his flight to- 
ward the sun. When he had distanced all his competitors 
and his strength was spent, in a loud voice he announced 
his monarchy over all things with wings. 

A crafty wren, who had hidden among the eagle's 
feathers, emerged, and, flying a little higher, called in a 
shrill, jubilant voice: "Birds, look up and behold your king!" 

rThe other birds allowed the claim of the wren, who was 
duly installed in office, when the angry eagle, exasperated at 
the decision, caught the wren in his talons, and, flying almost 
out of sight, dropped him to the earth. The wren, more 
frightened than hurt, when he had gathered himself together 
and taken an inventory of his injuries, discovered that he had 
suffered no loss except a piece of his tail, which was broken 
off in the fall. Derisively flipping the expressive stub, he 
flew to the highest bough of a great elm and sang an ex- 
ultant song. 



28 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

WREN SCOLDING 



WREN LIFE 

THE story does not say that the Heidelberg youth, too, 
was transformed into a wren, but it must have been 
that the Dryad wren's angry chirp caused him, also, 
to grow small, for when she comes out of the hole in the tree 
to-day the lover who keeps tryst with her is as small as a 
mouse and quite like herself in every way. Besides, did they 
not promise to be true to each other forever and ever? And 
the hole in the tree, too, is smaller! What changes has anger 
wrought! 

It was early in April when they arrived, too early for 
any great abundance of insect life, their principal food, to 
be abroad, but they were not seriously inconvenienced by its 
scarcity, for, being plump with southern feasting, their 
storage system made this, for the time being, a matter of 
minor importance. 

She, attractive little body, had many admirers of her 
kind, and he was often compelled to defend his exclusive 
right to her favor. This was usually accomplished through 
wordy discussions — beloved of all wrens — but occasionally 
the retort valiant was administered by the pugnacious little 
lover. 

As they flitted about among the trees looking for an 
opening, they chanced upon this deserted dwelling of a 
chickadee family, who, for some reason, had sought other 

31 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

quarters. The new home did not exactly coincide with the 
original plans and specifications of the old Heidelberg days, 
but it was far better suited to their needs — and to their 
changed conditions. 

Immediately they set to work to furnish it in accordance 
with wren tastes. From daylight till dark they worked. If 
there be merit in activity, the banner for worth undoubtedly 
belongs to the wren! All sorts of things they carried into 
it — sticks, straws, rags, paper, anything they could find — ■ 
till the cavity was almost filled; then, last of all, feathers 
enough to make a comfortable feather bed were carried in, 
and the establishment was complete. 

In this particular case — as in most others — the little 
dame seemed to be the head of the family, for it was she who 
carried most of the material, and she who arranged all of 
it. Was it because of her earlier creation that she was per- 
mitted to take the initiative? — or because she enjoyed the 
work? It certainly was not on account of indolence on the 
part of her spouse, for while she was making this home, he, 
capricious little builder, made another nest in the near neigh- 
borhood. Was this due to the unsatisfied building instinct 
in him, or did he think it might be best for him to have a 
home of his own, in readiness for a possible second choice in 
case anything should happen to the present sharer of his joys 
and sorrows? 

During the ten days that our little wren sat in her 
lichened mansion, her musical mate often enlivened the 
tedium of the moment by treating her to a delightful serenade 
as he swung on a bough beneath her window — or by bringing 
to her choice tidbits in the shape of plump spiders or luscious 
grasshoppers. These he carried in his beak as he climbed 
the tree exactly as a mouse would climb. It was easy then 



f 








Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

WRENS AT HOME 

Bringing to her choice tidbits . . . which he carried in his 
beak as he climbed the tree exactly as a mouse would have done. " 



WREN LIFE 

to believe with the Icelander that he is the mouse's brother. 
During the whole time of his mate's sitting on the nest, he 
faithfully ministered to her necessities and jealousy guarded 
their home against all intruders. 

These tiny creatures are seldom mute for long at a time. 
Hopping about among the branches, peering under leaves 
and looking into crevices, they stop every now and then to 
send up their shrill, vibrating songs. The wren is no mean 
musician. In a musical contest the eagle would never have 
been accorded first honors even for a moment. 

At the noonday woodland concert given by the wren, 
thrush, catbird, ovenbird and bobolink, when most other birds 
are silent, the wren — possibly because he is nearer than any 
of the others — seems to be the leader of the chorus, as his 
gladsome trill rises higher and clearer than all the rest. And 
often throughout the day he flies to a lofty bough and there, 
atilt on a branch, pours forth his soul in music — his whole 
body atremble with the fervor of his song. With open bill 
pointed toward the sky he sends his trilling notes upward ; 
then, as if moved more and more by the gladness of the 
springtime, with the wildest abandon he scatters reverbera- 
ting notes about him, filling the grove with that melody which, 
to a bird lover, is one of the chief charms of summer. 

The concert season of this cheery little minstrel does 
not close with the springtime; for full six months he sings. 
Those who have never been moved by the song of a bird 
have surely never had wrens nesting on their premises. 

On the morning when the first baby chirps were heard 
in the nest, the little wren father sang with hysterical glad- 
ness from the topmost bough of a nearby elm. The song 
was so like the triumphant music of Eastertide that the new 
life in the nest must have inspired it; though it may have 

35 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

been that the balmy summer morning, with its incense-laden 
breezes, drew the song from his throat; or possibly he was 
just so full of music he must needs express it. Who knows? 

When it came to providing for a family, the little fel- 
low began to show the effects of a purposeless youth spent 
in lolling about on the Heidelberg grass. It is useless to 
deny it. He was a poor provider, allowing his mate to bring 
every scrap of food that went into the begging mouths of 
their hungry brood. With him, concentrated effort seemed 
impossible. Though he was active enough, his activities were 
nearly always misdirected. All his domestic energies seemed 
to have been spent in the building of the superfluous nest. 
The little ones seemed to interest him for a time — he occa- 
sionally went to look at them — but never to the extent of 
providing for them. He often sang lullabies to them, to be 
sure, but sometimes, while he was singing these, even, the 
flighty little fellow — with one eye always on the main chance 
— broke off in the very midst of his lay to fly away after a 
passing insect. 

Those who believe all wrens unsusceptible to the softer 
emotions, should watch a mother wren busying herself with 
the care of her nestlings. There, every move, every soft little 
chirp, expresses maternity. And how she works for them! 
On an average of once in every two and a half minutes, 
through the livelong day, she brings food to them, when 
every mouthful has done its tiny best to escape from her — 
for none but active, living things are deemed good enough 
for the wrenlets. The menu provided includes caterpillars, 
grasshoppers, spiders, gnats, flies, beetles, bugs, myriapods 
and locusts, all of which are served in the best of style; the 
wings and legs are removed from beetles and grasshoppers, 
while spiders are presented as legless balls. Being exclusive- 

36 



WREN LIFE 

ly insectivorous, the wren as a gardener's assistant occupies a 
high place. Especially is she valuable in the orchard. 

Between meals she devotes her time to looking over her 
brood to see that no mites from the feather lining of her nest 
are disturbing them — and twenty-five or thirty times each 
day she cleans house thoroughly. 

After smoothing down the incipient feathers of her 
babes, as she departs on another marketing expedition she 
always casts a solicitous look behind; and on her return she 
always pauses on the threshold to survey her family as a 
whole before attending to their wants. With all its cares, 
the routine of nest life seems pleasing to this bustling little 
creature. Possibly having always lived within the narrow 
bounds of the trunk of a tree has prevented the confinement 
from growing irksome to her. 

While his mate is so busy with household cares the little 
father occupies himself mainly, when not busy with his music, 
in annoying all other creatures about the place. The Eng- 
lish sparrow has come in for a good share of his teasing and 
scolding. Nothing seems to please the little meddler more 
than to peck at the eggs, or to pull straws from the nest of 
his neighbor, with whom he is decidedly unpopular. A 
valiant defender of his household, when he recognizes ulterior 
designs on the home in the tree, on the part of frolicking 
squirrels, he loudly deprecates their society, expressing his 
anger in such a way as, in the old days, would have made 
them "grow smaller than a mouse," but which in these only 
makes them scamper away. 

Often he flies to the swallows' adobe huts to give them 
teasing pecks — and such a busybody as he is! There is not a 
crack, crevice, or hole in the neighborhood, whether occupied 
or not, that he has not looked into. He is not the only in- 

37 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

quisitive member of the family, however, for when his mate 
is not busy with her household cares, .she, too, is .meddling 
with neighborhood affairs. 

But no matter how engrossed they are with affairs, 
whether foreign or domestic, the slightest stir in the leaf 
screen above them, different from the stir of the wind, always 
reminds them that there are babes in the nest and that they 
are their defenders. If a squirrel or blue- jay happens to 
be the disturber, a quick touch on the brush or a peck in the 
back from one of these little feathered creatures is enough to 
cause a retreat. Occasionally a clawed paw grazes the saucy 
tail of one of them, but not often. 

However much the wren may enjoy nest life her reign 
there is brief, for soon her infant brood grows large enough 
and soon they are possessed of the proper equipment of 
feathers to render a larger field more desirable. On leaving 
the nest the uncertain and fitful flight of the little ones is 
guided for a few days by the parents, ever on the alert to 
prevent them in their fear from scrambling into rat-holes or 
other dangerous places — to a young wren any sort of hole 
is a place of safety. As he grows older he learns that those 
on the ground are an exception, likely to be occupied by 
enemies. 

At nightfall, the wrenlets are guided to low trees or 
bushes, which they climb in their mouse-like way — while they 
are yet too weak to fly up as well as down. But as wrens 
develop rapidly, in a day or two they will be able to fly almost 
anywhere, and in a few more days they will have the ability 
to not only go where they choose, but also to assume their 
own support, thus leaving their parents to devote themselves 
to their own pleasures. 

Before the summer is over we will see these fledglings, 

38 



WREN LIFE 

like their most remote ancestors, flying into passions at noth- 
ing, their whole bodies atremble with rage at the slightest 
provocation. They will grow up to be just as loyal to those 
they love — while their love lasts — and just as troublesome to 
their enemies. They will be just as saucy, intrepid, jealous, 
strategic, opinionated, active and musical as they, but any 
one who is the least bit observing will see that each of them, 
like his elders, has his own individuality; each has his own 
characteristic way of flipping his tail, of chirping, of express- 
ing tenderness and of annoying his neighbors. 

As the season advances, mutual attachment between the 
older pair dies out. Had we been more familiar with the 
ways of wrens in general we would have known from the 
beginning that theirs was a love destined to wane with the 
season. 

Yet whatever their faults, it is with regret that we notice 
coming into their voices the autumn cricket's tone, for it tells 
us plainly that the time of their departure is near — that the 
wander-thirst is upon them. When they leave, whether to- 
gether or separately, they will journey by easy stages toward 
the summer land of Mexico, where they will not only escape 
the severity of our winters, but will have their voices fresh- 
ened for another concert season among us. Our little wren, 
like other singing birds, will leave us in the daytime — he 
never travels at night. On his departure for that softer 
clime, as we catch a farewell glimpse of his flashing, flitting 
presence, his last reverberating warble will awaken in our 
hearts an echoing trill, and a hope that in the coming spring- 
time, if we encourage him to settle in the old home, by way 
of recompense he will give us many a song. 

Though these may be sung to other mates in other nests, 
and even though the renderings may be different, they will 

39 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

be but variations upon the same old themes as the songs of 
yesteryear — songs that may never lure us, like the Manxmen 
of old, to watery graves in the depths of the great ocean — 
but songs that will lure us into the sea of dreams as we rest 
under shady trees as did the Heidelberg youth in the long 
ago. 



40 



He clasps the crag with hooked hands ; 
Close to the sun in lonely lands, 
Ringed with the azure world, he stands. 

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; 
He watches from his mountain walls, 
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



41 



LEGEND OF THE EAGLE 

AN old legend tells us that the eagle, the king of birds, 
is the one creature on earth who is able to recover 
departed youth; and the great age to which he is 
known to live lends color to the story. 

It is related that when this bird feels that the season 
of youth is passing by and when his young are still in the 
nest, he leaves the aging earth and soars toward the sun, 
the consumer of all that is harmful. Mounting upward even 
to the third region of the air — the region of meteors — he 
circles and swings about under the great fiery ball in their 
midst, turning every feather to its scorching rays, then, with 
wings drawn back, like a meteor himself, he drops into some 
cold spring or into the ocean wave, there to have the heat 
driven inward by the soul-searching chill of its waters. Then 
flying to his eyrie, he nestles among his warm fledglings 
till, starting into perspiration, he throws off age with his 
feathers. 

That his rejuvenescence may be complete, as his suste- 
nance must be of youth, he makes prey of his young, feeding 
on the nestlings that have warmed him. He is clothed anew 
and youth is again his. 



43 



EAGLE LIFE 

A PERCH on a tall tree, standing higher than its fel- 
lows on some rugged hill or mountain-side, with all 
his surroundings — trees, rocks and waters — express- 
ing majesty and strength — with all his chosen environment 
in perfect harmony with the spirit of the bird, the eagle seems 
eminently worthy of all the honor given to him by the an- 
cients, and of being exalted above all feathered creatures. 
His chosen perch, the tree on which he rests, is an expression 
of his staunch, uncompromising nature. 

From his high watch-tower there, what wonders does 
he see! The making of each new day — and its passing; and 
the great mountains with their upthrust peaks and their 
quiet valleys between, changing with the successive seasons 
and with every passing mood of the sky. No long hours 
of laborious toiling up a pathless mountain-side for him 
that he may view a scene of grandeur ; such views as mortals 
are permitted to see but once or twice in a lifetime — perhaps 
never^ — are spread out before him always. He sees the dawn 
rising from the purpled east and striking every cloud with 
gold and crimson and rosy purple, while the waters below 
multiply their lights and colors till the whole world is suf- 
fused and aglow. At noonday he gazes with unflinching 
eye at a scorching sun, under whose glance the grasses burn 
and curl up on the plains below, and later in the day he sees 

44 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

THE EAGLE AND HIS MATE AT HOME 

'Aperch on a tall tree standing higher than its fellows . . . 
with all his surroundings expressing majesty and strength." 



EAGLE LIFE 

the watch-fires lighted in the evening sky; and when these 
burn low and darkness closes in, he sees the forests of pines 
as a green bloom on the bronze mountains — like the purple 
bloom on the grape — gradually sink into their dark back- 
ground, leaving them black and somber — then the moun- 
tains themselves sink into and become a part of the darkness. 

Again he sees the life going out of the living clouds as 
the sunlight leaves them — their rose and pale gold and ame- 
thyst lights purpling and graying till they are deadened and 
darksome as the mountains beneath them. And when the 
clouds have grown heavy and the storm gathers, when the 
fierce lightning darts about among the cleft peaks in the 
distance, when, as it comes nearer, great trees bend to the 
blast or are uprooted by its force, when all living creatures 
in the comparatively safe valley below are filled with terror 
— rabbits cowering in their burrows, field-mice seeking home 
shelter, the owl perching close to the trunk of her home tree, 
and the woodpecker scarcely daring to peep from her hole — 
the eagle shows no fear. Facing the storm on his solitary 
bough, by the flapping of his great wings he shows his enjoy- 
ment in the warfare of the elements. The fierce heart of the 
eagle is made glad as he defiantly faces the storm. 

Compared with this, what, to him, were the conflicts 
of men at the head of whose armies he was borne in the years 
that are gone? 

When he chooses to leave his lofty perch, one stroke of 
his mighty wings carries him far into the air, and he mounts 
to heights far beyond mortal vision, in ever-narrowing 
spirals, till he seems to disappear in the sun itself. 

When again he is seen, seemingly motionless wings are 
bearing him along, far above the highest peaks — and beyond 
the mountains, where a different world lies beneath him — 

47 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

broad valleys veined by streams that seem but curved and 
bent threads of silver viewed distantly — and plains whose 
wind-swept grasses are like the smooth waves on the surface 
of the quiet sea beyond the mountains. 

Swinging or poised high in space, with a cloudless sky 
above and a panoramic earth below, he is master of the situa- 
tion, for the very air is obedient to his will. Setting his 
tense wings to the air currents, around the great upturned 
bowl above he sweeps and careens and circles as if borne 
about by a whirlwind existing for his enjoyment; then shoots 
off across the hills to a point over a lake, where again he 
circles and swings, his keen eye all the while searching its 
waters, till, suddenly, dropping like some black body shot 
from the sky, he falls to the water, whose surface is scarcely 
disturbed as he rises with a great fish, slain with one grasp 
of his clutching talons, and bears it away to his eyrie, there 
to feast at leisure on his finny prey. 

Solitude seems essential to eagle happiness, for these 
birds alwaj^s prefer to make their homes among the wildest 
scenery, their chief haunts being about the most lonely parts 
of our great lakes, or amid the Rockies, though among them 
there is occasionally a pair who are willing to live in more 
thickly inhabited sections — possibly because their individual 
ancestors lived there when it, too, was a wilderness, for the 
eagle's attachment to place is strong. The only indispensa- 
ble requisite is nearness to water in which fish abound. 

Some eagles choose rocky ledges as building spots, while 
others prefer to make their homes in lofty trees. If the latter 
location is chosen, they are careful to select a place where 
there will be nothing to interfere with their free movements. 

In his home the eagle is always an aristocrat, never 
moving about from place to place, but clinging to the an- 

48 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

EAGLE'S TALON 



EAGLE LIFE 

cestral pile as long as the location endures. The nest is 
constructed of broken branches and sticks two or three feet 
long and made more compact by the addition of weed stems, 
coarse grasses and sometimes roots and sod. Each succeed- 
ing year more material is added, until, after being occupied 
for a number of years, it is a very bulky affair, five or six 
feet high and four or five feet across. Unlike most other 
birds, eagles make their nest their home and not merely a 
nursery. 

This majestic bird shows his kingly character in per- 
forming very little labor himself. While occasionally he 
goes on a fishing tour, it is usually under stress of hunger. 
Ordinarily he exacts tribute from the industrious osprey, his 
powerful but humble slave, who usually relinquishes his 
choicest catch on hearing the intimidating cry of his superior. 
When this subject fails to provide a sufficiency, the ravenous 
vulture is occasionally made to give of his food — sometimes 
even to yield from his crop that which he has swallowed to 
satisfy his own hunger — that this king of birds may be made 
comfortable, whatever the cost to his subjects. He does not 
spend his time in continual feasting, however, for a full re- 
past will often last him several days. 

Even in captivity the eagle does not lay aside his 
kingly bearing: pacing his perch in a six-foot cage, this 
royal, feathered pirate, with head thrown back as he looks 
on us with fearless, unflinching eye, has the manner of some 
mighty viking of old pacing the deck of his vessel. Though 
a captive, he will never be intimidated, never be other than 
a king. 



51 



Gallant and gay in their doublets gray, 
All at a flash, like the darting of flame, 

Chattering Arabic, African, Indian — 
Certain of springtime the swallows came. 

Doublets of gray silk and surcoats of purple, 
And ruffs of russet round each little throat, 

Wearing such garb they had crossed the waters, 
Mariners sailing with never a boat. 

Cleaving the clouds with their moon-edged pinions, 
High over city and vineyard and mart; 

April to pilot them ; May speeding after ; 

And each bird's compass his small red heart. 

Edwin Arnold. 



53 



THE ORIGIN OF SWALLOWS 

IN the long ago, before it had all been quite settled 
whether the human creatures on this earth of ours were 
to remain in human form or to take the form of birds 
and animals, or whether the birds and animals were to be 
changed into human creatures, a group of children at play 
were building mud houses on the edge of a cliff near their 
home, when a magic spell was cast over them, changing them 
into swallows — birds who would evermore spend their time 
in playing at children's games in the upper air and in build- 
ing houses of clay. 

To-day we see their homes like children's play-houses 
under shelving rocks, on the edges of forests, or under the 
eaves of our barns, or in the form of holes in sandy cliffs; 
and on summer evenings, as darkness descends, like earth 
children pursuing fireflies, we may see these aerial children 
darting about in the sky in pursuit of those will-o'-the-wisps 
of the air. 

^Eskimo Legend. 



55 



SWALLOW LIFE 

RATHER late in the springtime comes to us the most 
graceful of all birds, the swallow, whose flight is 
the poetry of motion and whose twitterings are a 
delightful intoxicant, the mere memory of which calls forth 
visions of roseate sunset skies and all the delights of summer 
evenings. Vernal promises may lure other birds to our 
groves, but not the swallow. The warmth that is enduring, 
and green leaves and spring blossoms which provide the 
insect fare upon which she subsists, must be really here 
before she will come to abide with us. 

Of this charming family the earliest to appear are the 
white-breasted or tree swallows, which, with the advance of 
civilization, are rapidly losing the habit on which the latter 
name is based. Originally they built their nests only in hol- 
low trees, but, like their cousins, the purple martins, they are 
gradually learning to prefer the homes provided for them 
by man, and their rent is paid in the service of ridding the 
air of insect pests. 

Tree swallows with their pure-white breasts and mantles 
of steel-blue washed with green, are familiar figures darting 
and whirling above our marshes, dipping into and skimming 
the surface of their waters, collecting the insects which swarm 
there. As flocks of them whirl and eddy about in ever- 

56 









^ 


i 1 






/^*mR§ ( 


B8* ^rm Jt 1 \ 



Photograph by Edward Warren 

NESTS OF CLIFF SWALLOWS UNDER 
EAVES OF CABIN 



SWALLOW LIFE 

narrowing circles above the ponds, they seem to be herding 
the insect swarms for more convenient capture. 

Later in the season the attractive young of this species 
are seen perching in groups among the bushes or sunning 
themselves on dead or leafless branches. 

Between the middle and the last week of April the barn 
swallow, the most familiar and the most gaily robed member 
of the family, comes to make her home on the rafters or 
underneath the eaves of our barns, where she rears her twit- 
tering young. The forehead and gorget of chestnut — the 
faded bloodstain evidencing an ancient crime — differentiate 
her from other swallows, as does also the more pronounced 
fork of the tail and the deep buff below the chestnut breast. 

If the vicissitudes of the winter have not rendered this 
impossible, on returning to her haunts of other summers she 
hastens to repair the battered masonry of her home of yester- 
year. This home, among many others of its kind, is built 
of row upon row of pellets of mud and straw held together 
by the glutinous saliva of the bird, and lined with fine grass 
and poultry feathers, the latter usually overflowing the nest. 

While the swallow is sitting, her mate treats her with 
remarkable tenderness, feeding and caressing her, and even 
relieving her in the task of incubation for short periods when 
she flies abroad for needed exercise and in quest of insect 
food. In eleven days the young appear and are carefully 
tended by both parents. 

In two weeks' time the birdlings are able to leave the 
nest, and in another week or two are self-supporting or par- 
tially so. Even after they are able to take long flights the 
parents are occasionally seen meeting them in mid-air, and, 
after apparently touching the beaks of their young with 
their own, dart off in another direction. We are told by 

59 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

those who ought to know that in this demonstration, seem- 
ingly a caress, the young are being given extra food by their 
more proficient parents. 

The cliff swallow, not quite so common, yet very gen- 
erally distributed over North America, may easily be dis- 
tinguished from the barn swallow, which it resembles in color, 
by the shortness of its tail. The tail of this swallow is only 
slightly forked. She may be further identified by a patch 
of brown on the back at the base of the tail. The more or 
less retort-shaped nest of this bird is built of mud, supposed- 
ly agglutinated, without straw. Great numbers of these are 
attached to cliffs in the more unsettled portions of the coun- 
try, but where the region is more thickly inhabited they are 
fastened under the eaves of buildings much as hornets' nests 
are. 

The brown-backed bank swallow and the rough-winged 
differ from the others so greatly in color that it is not hard 
to distinguish them — besides, they are much smaller. At a 
distance, a party of the former flying about, in and out of 
the entrance of their homes, look much like swarming bees. 

The glossy blue-black purple martin, one of the most 
attractive of swallows, and familiar to every one who has 
ever lived in the country, is one of our most useful birds. 
According to Mr. Ridgeway, one pair of these will destroy 
more harmful insects in a season than all the English spar- 
rows in a township would kill in a lifetime. Unfortunately, 
the alien sparrow is driving this beautiful and useful bird 
away from our homes. Since the advent of this most dis- 
agreeable and quarrelsome of birds, many martins have de- 
serted the boxes where they have made their homes for 
decades. 

In spots where cattle gather, or on hot summers days 

GO 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 

YOUNG CLIFF OR EAVE SWALLOWS 

The attractive young of this species are seen perching in groups 
among the bushes, or sunning themselves on dead or leafless branches." 



SWALLOW LIFE 

where they stand knee-deep in deliriously cooling, shadowy 
pools, their comfort is greatly increased by groups of these 
aerial voyagers — barn swallows or martins if near homes, or 
white-breasted swallows if in marsh-cornered meadows — 
sailing about overhead, darting here and there and dipping 
down to take on the wing the pestiferous insects that con- 
stantly annoy the herd. 

The one fault of these graceful birds is that they are 
notoriously poor housekeepers. With the exception of the 
disagreeable sparrow and some birds of prey, most birds 
carry away from their homes every scrap of uncleanness — 
every bit of refuse food and every loose feather. But it is 
not so with the swallow. The delights of flitting about in 
the air and clearing it of all life save their own are too al- 
luring to admit of their spending any of their time in the 
laborious task of housecleaning. Possibly good housekeep- 
ing is more than ought to be expected of children trans- 
formed — for such they are — with no cares to disturb them. 
Their food, even, is provided for them. All they seem to 
have to do is to leave their broad mouths wide open as they 
fly about, and their nourishment enters as they pass through 
the air. Every click of the bill as it closes tells that the 
career of some tiny creature is ended. Of course a few 
smaller mollusks are picked up and eaten as the birds amuse 
themselves about wet places, but their gathering is but child's 
play, as is the building of the mud houses. 

No more gregarious birds than these can be found any- 
where. Who ever heard of a solitary swallow? All varieties 
live in colonies, and even in their longest flights they keep 
together. The young, on leaving the nest, never disband, 
as do many other birds, but keep constantly together, young 
barn swallows on some projecting piece of timber, martins 

613 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

about the home box, and tree swallows on some convenient 
bush. 

Wherever we see them — floating in mid-air over grazing 
or homing herds, or wheeling about through the overhanging 
mists of mosquitoes above stagnant pools, or with momen- 
tary touches of breast or wing-tips breaking the glassy sur- 
face of ponds into myriads of infinitesimal waves — they chal- 
lenge our admiration. The grace of the swallow shows itself 
even in the mixing of her clay; as she turns and sways and 
stirs, her slender wings are held daintily above all pollution. 
Even though at times she must needs come down to earth, 
she is never of the earth. 

In the early morning we see hundreds of these beautiful 
birds sitting about and pluming themselves on telephone or 
telegraph wires, which would seem bare as leafless boughs 
without them. Here they have spent the night with heads 
tucked under deafening wings, that shut out the requiems 
chanted by the resonant voices of mosquitoes and other in- 
sects for the hosts of their slain kindred whose brief lives 
have ended on the day just past. And in the evening gloam 
they course about in the air as high as eye can see — apparent- 
ly for the mere pleasure and exhilaration of being in the air 
— and of it — then swinging low and dipping down to the 
very surface of streams and ponds in pursuit of insects, aerial 
and aquatic — then again taking longer flights, apparently 
pursuing only each other. 

In autumn, when the blended greens of grove and field 
have changed to crimson and gold and brown, and the hum 
of insect wings is growing more and more faint, we notice 
the swallows coursing and speeding about over farmyards 
and meadows in larger groups, their numbers augmented by 
the broods of summer; and when we see them staying more 

64 



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c- 5 




SWALLOW LIFE 

and more closely together we know that preparation is being 
made for the fall migration and that the hour of their de- 
parture is about to strike. Some day soon we may expect a 
group of them — possibly the rough- winged or the martins — 
coursing and whirling in ever- widening circles, then mount- 
ing higher and starting for some perpetual summer land — 
probably tropical America — where insects are always hum- 
ming. 

On their way they will stop for brief rests among the 
bayberries, which afford them both food and shelter — then 
on strong wings covering ninety or a hundred miles an hour 
— continue their journey. Soon they will be followed by 
other groups, till the haunts that knew them are deserted and 
we are left with only a memory of their happy, child-like, 
twittering voices and their graceful, rhythmic flight. 

The swallow has no song — and needs none ; her elusive, 
suggestive twitter sets chords in ourselves to vibrating that 
awaken harmonies not of sound alone, but so blended with 
color and motion that they are far more beautiful than any 
mere outside song could ever be. Yet they are not wholly 
within ourselves, for, having in them all the delightful sounds 
and odors of a summer evening — all the glowing, permea- 
ting, vanishing colors and shifting shadows of sunset skies — 
they carry us out of self. 

As the twitterings of these loving and lovable birds 
bring back to us a flood of recollections of a happy childhood, 
when flitting, flickering fireflies were will-o'-the-wisps to be 
followed about the dewy orchard with its fruity odors, we 
bless the fairy who gave to these graceful, happy creatures 
not only a perpetual childhood, but the power to recall in 
us our own childhood — even though it be but for a moment. 



67 



The flying rumors gathered as they rolled, 
Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told, 
And all who told it added something new, 
And all who heard it made enlargement, too ; 
In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew. 

Pope. 



69 



THE ORIGIN OF MAGPIES 

ON the authority of Ovid, magpies were the discon- 
tented, tale-bearing daughters of Pierus, who were 
changed into birds for their garrulity. When the 
curse fell upon them, endeavoring to speak and, with great 
clamor, to menace with their insolent hands, they beheld quills 
growing out of their nails, dusky feathers springing from 
their arms, and each saw the face of the other shooting out 
into a hard beak, as these new birds were added to the wood. 
When in their alarm they frantically beat their breasts they 
were elevated by the motion and hung poised in the air as 
magpies, the scandal of the groves. And even though their 
forms were changed, their talkativeness remained, and their 
garrulity and enormous love of chattering. 



71 



LEGEND OF THE MAGPIE'S NEST-BUILDING 

ACCORDING to an old story, the magpie was the last 
bird to learn nest-building. When it became neces- 
sary for her to establish a home, though she was proud 
and arrogant, she finally put away her pride to the extent of 
asking the other birds to give her some instruction in the art. 
In their generosity they agreed and assembled on the ap- 
pointed day to assist her. 

The materials having been collected, the blackbird, 
taking up a twig, said: "Place that stick there," and laid 
it in place. "Ah!" said the conceited magpie, "I knew that 
before." Each of the other birds there assembled followed 
with useful suggestions, demonstrating every step, but all 
through the lesson the heedless magpie chattered: "Ah! I 
knew that before. Ah! I knew that before." 

At length, when the nest was but half completed, and 
the patience of her instructors entirely exhausted, they said 
with one voice: "Well, Mistress Mag, since you know all 
about it you may build your nest yourself." 

From that day on, no bird of the wood would allow the 
foolish magpie to see her building her own nest, even, and 
so it is that magpies, ever since, have built ramshackle nests. 



72 




Photograph by Edward Warren 

THE MAGPIE, THE SCANDAL OF THE GROVE 

"A pied bird perches on a branch that bends with his 
weight as he balances himself with his beautiful tail." 



MAGPIE LIFE 

IN almost any of the valleys among our western moun- 
tains one is likely to find these beautiful and enter- 
taining birds in their fullest perfection. As the chance 
visitor sits rapt in admiration of the distant peaks and 
passes with the marvelous lights and shadows upon them, 
suddenly his dream is disturbed by a living streak of black 
and white passing across the foreground of the picture, as 
a pied bird perches on a nearby branch that bends with his 
weight as he balances himself with the beautiful tail that 
served him as a rudder in his sail across the sky. With every 
motion of the branch it now tips gracefully up and down, 
allowing countless iridescent hues to chase each other over 
its glossy surface. 

His broad patches of perfect color are glorified by the 
sunlight playing upon them, the immaculate white being 
given a snowy depth, while over the darker areas of his daz- 
zling plumage elusive metallic greens and purples and blues 
stroked by delicate rose and amethyst are made to pass in 
quick succession. 

All unconscious of his human observer, the charming 
bird, full of the spirit of the springtime, utters a tender, 
beseeching strain not intended for mortal ears, and seldom 
heard by them. This song, sung only when the bird believes 
himself to be alone with his kind, comes as a glad surprise, 

75 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

for it is utterly at variance with anything which has ever 
been written about him. 

Without waiting for a reply, the gaily-clad minstrel 
flies off with a stop or two to another tree, where he is joined 
by a mate as beautiful as himself, then quickly follows the 
chatter for which their tribe is famous. Though they are 
soon out of sight, the gossip continues, now coming from one 
part of the grove, now from another. Evidently the pair 
have been joined by others, for such a volume of chatter is 
certainly beyond the power of any two birds, however much 
they may be interested in neighborhood affairs. 

It was doubtless this obtrusive, bleating chatter, as well 
as their senseless shrieking cries in flight, that gave rise to 
the ancient belief that magpies were companions of Bacchus, 
with tongues loosed by wine, who continued their revel even 
in the absence of the bibulous god. With penetrating eyes 
and ears alert, together with the keen intelligence possessed 
by these birds, it is possible that they may be discussing af- 
fairs of moment rather than the trivialities supposed to in- 
terest them. Perhaps the pair who refused to enter the ark 
and who remained outside perched on the roof tree, supposed- 
ly gossiping, were talking to some purpose. There were 
times when Noah was not as discerning as he might have 
been, and even our interpretation of the language of the 
magpie of to-day is wholly out of keeping with the mental 
strength of the bird. 

Seldom are magpies seen alone. Usually, except dur- 
ing the nesting period, they go about in pairs or, in late 
summer, with their families of the season. When foraging, 
they bound over the ground with charming grace, stopping 
now and then to tug at a worm, after the manner of our 
friends the robins. 

76 




Photograph by Edward Warren 



MAGPIE'S NEST 

The ramshackle nest, an immense structure of 
sticks and mud, resembling a great tumble weed.' 



MAGPIE LIFE 

While picking their way among the wet grasses and 
low herbage or over muddy places, their beautiful tails, as 
their most precious treasures, are held daintily aloft, and free 
from all pollution, as the birds search for snails, caterpillars, 
young mice and frogs. Occasionally they mount the backs 
of grazing cattle to feed on the flies that molest them, but 
usually they do not wander far from the thick shrubby 
growths, where they seek cover on the approach of enemies, 
real or supposed, and into which, on scenting danger, they 
disappear as stealthily as cat-birds or cuckoos. It is here 
that their homes may be found. 

The ramshackle nest, wholly incompatible with either 
the fastidiousness or the intelligence of the bird, is an im- 
mense structure of mingled sticks and mud indiscriminately 
arranged, somewhat resembling one of the great tumble 
weeds of the western plains, placed several feet from the 
ground among thick masses of oak brush or similar growths 
in the wilder regions, or, where civilization has encroached 
on natural territory, in some fruit tree. 

That her seclusion may be more complete and to pro- 
tect herself and young against the incursions of predatory 
birds, the magpie covers her dwelling with a dome of twigs, 
leaving two openings at opposite sides for entrance and exit. 
As she sits with her head at one, her unspread tail sometimes 
protrudes visibly from the other, betraying her whereabouts 
at a time when she is especially desirous of escaping notice. 

Like the robin, this bird often reconstructs the old nest 
from year to year, and, like the wren, she often builds sham 
nests, either for the purpose of diverting attention from the 
one occupied, or to live in should accident befall. 

Though the magpie is possessed of traits that are far 
from admirable — as a petty thief she has fairly won the name 

79 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

of "egg-lift," and her fondness for a meat diet has made her 
a murderess of even large animals — her unfailing grace and 
beauty are bound to challenge our admiration, and to add 
life and charm to the landscape. We admire her, too, as an 
example of superior motherhood. Zealously she plies her 
young with food while in the nest, and diligently she devotes 
herself to their education during their first summer. 

When reared from the nest, the magpie makes a most 
interesting pet who delights in following and entertaining 
her owner, but mature captives have little value. There is 
scarcely a community within her range of residence that does 
not boast one of these pitiful prisoners, but how different 
she is from those in their natural environment. "All her 
merry quips are o'er." Gone is her gaiety. Gone, too, is 
the beautiful iridescent wash from her plumage. The once 
snowy patches are sullied and the once beautiful tail, her 
erstwhile pride, is limp, dulled and bedraggled, a thing of 
rags and tatters. Yet it expresses her condition as eloquent- 
ly as it did in the jaunty care-free days in the wood. And 
all this has been brought upon her by her accomplishments ! 

As man in the old days proclaimed her the scandal of 
the grove, she in her present estate proclaims him — who has 
so misunderstood her and so degraded her — the real deserver 
of the title. 



80 



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Photograph by Edward Warrer 



YOUNG MAGPIES JUST OUT OF THE NEST 



When musing on companions gone, 
We doubly feel ourselves alone. 

Scott — Marmion. 



THE ORIGIN OF THE KINGFISHER 

THE beautiful love story of Ceyx and Halcyone has 
been handed down to us through the ages. 

He, the brave and handsome young Thessalian 
king, son of the Morning Star, and his gentle and beautiful 
wife, Halcyone, daughter of the wind god, Eolus, gave to 
each other such love as few ever know. Each to the other 
was dearer than life — to her he was the wisest and bravest 
of mortals, while, to him, she was as beautiful as the morn- 
ing. 

During the first days they spent together no discord 
marred their happiness, no cloud darkened their sky — all was 
joy and brightness. 

After a time, dire misfortune came to the family of 
Ceyx — misfortunes which he believed to be indicative of the 
displeasure of the gods. Not knowing what to do to appease 
them, he decided to consult the oracle of Apollo. This neces- 
sitated a long and dangerous voyage to Clares in Ionia. 

On telling Halcyone of his intention, a deathly paleness 
came over her. Jealousy, which ever gnaws at the vitals of 
those who love deeply, now tortured her till she cried out in 
agony: "What fault of mine has turned you from me? 
Where now is the love you once gave? Have you learned 
to feel comfortable with Halcyone away?" 

Then with honeyed words she endeavored to dissuade 
him. Finding these of no avail, she told him of the dangers 

85 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

awaiting him upon the waters. The disasters which she pic- 
tured were not born of idle fancy. Having lived in the cave 
of Eolus, and having often witnessed the violence of the 
winds, she knew whereof she spoke. She told him of the dire- 
ful work of the winds, which rushed together with such fury 
that fire flashed from the conflict; and of their battles with 
the waves; then, seeing that her Ceyx was not to be turned 
aside, she said: "If you must go, take me with you, for if 
I am left behind I shall suffer not only the real dangers 
which you pass through, but those also which my fears sug- 
gest." 

Ceyx was greatly troubled, for he also wished that she 
might go with him, but he loved her too dearly to expose her 
to the dangers which he knew he must encounter. Assuring 
her of his enduring love, he left her with this promise: "By 
the rays of my father, the day-star, if fate permits, I will re- 
turn before the moon shall have twice rounded her orb." 
With sobs and with weeping, the young wife clung to him 
until the men at the oars were ready to pull out into the 
waters, and he could linger no longer. 

With tearful eyes she watched him wave a last farewell 
as his barque went out across the ocean. Not until its hull 
was lost to sight, and the sails, even, had disappeared, did 
she return to their lonely abode, where everything reminded 
her of the departed loved one. The long days which followed 
were made dark by forebodings and tears. 

Ceyx, too, was lonely and longed to turn back where 
love was calling, but duty bade him go — so away from home 
and happiness and safety he sailed. Yet, though there was 
a tumult in his heart, he felt no fear for his own safety, for 
the sea was calm. 

But, when midway between the two lands, as night is 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 



THE LONE FISHER 



THE ORIGIN OF THE KINGFISHER 

fast coming down, a great storm arises. The orders of the 
master to his men are unheard because of the mighty noise 
of winds and waves. Each man tries to do what seems to 
him is best, but their efforts are in vain, for the heavens and 
the sea seem to have united to destroy them. The clouds 
come down in great sheets to the waves, which rise to meet 
them; winds beat about them on every side. The noise is 
deafening, and the light from the conflict blinding, as it 
comes to them through the inky blackness of the night. 
Powerless of themselves, all call on the gods for aid, and 
think of the loved ones at home and of the pledges left be- 
hind. Ceyx calls on his father, the day-star, and on the 
father of Halcyone, the wind god, but they are deaf to his 
entreaties — and all through his prayer runs the name of 
Halcyone, the one for whom his heart yearns, yet for whose 
absence he is thankful. Finally, as the vessel is torn asunder 
and the very pieces beaten into the turbulent waters, as he 
clings to a spar he prays that the waves may bear his lifeless 
form to her. As a great wave tears him from the spar and 
he goes down into the dark water, last on his lips is the name 
of Halcyone. 

She, at home — full of fears — is counting the days till 
his promised return. The garments which he loved to see 
her wear are made ready to be worn — as are the garments 
which he shall wear. Ceaselessly she prays to the gods — to 
one for his safety and return, to another for his success — but 
most often to Juno, to whom the wives of that day prayed 
that their husbands might remain faithful. Long she be- 
seeches that he may meet no one who could become dearer to 
him than herself. 

At length, Juno, knowing of the fate which had befallen 
the absent one, and in sympathy with the pleadings of his 

89 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

troubled wife, sends her messenger, Iris, to the great god, 
Somnus, asking that a vision, in the form of Ceyx, be sent 
to Ilalcyone to tell of the dread happening. Hearing her 
message, Somnus sends his messenger to do her bidding. In 
the form of her loved one, Morpheus leans over the bed of 
the sleeping Halcyone and tells her of all the circumstances 
of the wreck — how, to the last, the thoughts of her loved one 
had been with her, and how all that was mortal of him would 
come back to her on the waves. 

Crying out: "Ceyx is dead! This it was that my pre- 
saging mind foreboded," her cries awake her. The night is 
spent in grief and tortures of the mind. When the first light 
of day appears she hastens to the shore that she may be there 
ready to receive her returning Ceyx. Before her mind passes 
every scene of their life together. It was here that this oc- 
curred, and here that — and here that he gave her his last kiss. 
With such mixed pleasure and torture she awaits his coming. 
As with many prayers she begs that her life may be taken, 
that her spirit may be with his, she looks out across the waters 
and searches every wave for the loved form. 

The gods take pity on her. Borne by the waves, the 
dead form is coming, and, seeing it in the distance, a shudder 
runs through her frame as she reaches out her arms, which 
take the shape of wings, bearing her to him. She is no longer 
a woman, but a bird — the halcyon. Ceyx, too, takes on this 
form and rises from the waves to meet her, and they fly away 
together across the water, there to make a home on its bosom. 
No more will they be separated. During the building of 
their home and the time for its enjoyment, beautiful days are 
given them, days when the waves are still and only gentle 
zephyrs stir the air, and the whole world is bathed in warm, 
golden light — halcyon days. 

90 



THE LONE FISHER 

IN" a hole in a bank beside a lonely road the little king- 
fishers first saw the light — if blind creatures, born in 
a pocket in the earth, could be said to see light. At 
any rate, that was where they cast off their shelly coverings 
— six helpless, homely kingfisher infants. 

Their house was a simple one, merely a narrow passage- 
way with a slight upward slant leading back into the bank 
for a distance of four or five feet, terminating in a single 
vaulted chamber, six or seven inches high and less than a foot 
across. A modest dwelling, surely, yet snug and comfor- 
table. 

The elder pair had selected the spot, an ideal one from 
a kingfisher's point of view, shortly after their return from 
the South in the spring. Its seclusion would render it se- 
cure against the depredations of boys, while the steepness of 
the bank would make it impervious to the incursions of 
hawks, owls, snakes, weasels and other callers whose visits 
would be likely to result in casualties. 

Keenly alive to the advantages of safety, they would 
have chosen this spot for these reasons alone, though they 
realized it had other attractions as well. 

A few feet from the foot of the bank was a pond, or 
bayou, partly grown up with rushes and purple flags, fur- 
nishing an abiding place for the many forms of animal life 
which these pioneers knew full well how to appreciate. And 

91 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

only a short flight as they saw it, or little more than a stone's 
throw from a human point of view, was a sluggish stream 
plentifully peopled with fish — small fry, to be sure, but large 
enough to answer their needs perfectly. They, themselves, 
were not over a foot in length, so what did they care for a 
larger catch? 

Over both pond and stream hung trees with long, out- 
reaching branches — some of them alluringly bare — such 
watch-towers as nature, only, could construct. In the early 
morning the sun shone on the bank where their home was to 
be, and in the afternoon a beautiful tree cast a deep shade 
over it. 

Then, too, the chosen place was in the neighborhood of 
their childhood's home ; not in the same bank — a railroad had 
demolished that — but so near that either of them by taking 
a short flight could view the scenes of childhood. Altogether 
it seemed an ideal location for a home. With many a rattling 
chuckle the pair congratulated themselves on the good for- 
tune which had led them to it. 

When it came to building their dwelling — or digging 
it, for their ways were not the ways of human creatures — 
both took a hand — or claw — in the work. Sociologists would 
have us believe that division of labor in the family is a prod- 
uct of modern times. In the bird world it has been a custom 
throughout the ages. There a wife is neither a drudge nor a 
mere idler or entertainer, but a true companion and help- 
meet, manifesting her love by always doing her share toward 
making a home and providing for the family. 

For two long weeks both birds were occupied in excava- 
ting the gallery, taking turn about at their task, stopping only 
for refreshments and needed sleep. Though the work was 
hard they cared little for that, for were they not looking f or- 

92 




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Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

KINGFISHER EXCAVATING THE DWELLING 



THE LONE FISHER 

ward to better times ? Though the future held many sorrows 
in store for them they could not foresee them. The joys, only, 
they anticipated, thus doubling their happiness. 

When their establishment was completed it was snug, 
warm and comfortable, a home for any weather. After six 
white eggs were laid, there began a long and weary season 
of staying at home for the little dame, compelled by necessity 
to spend much of her time in keeping the eggs warm. In 
this, even, she was assisted by her mate, who shared in the 
duties of incubation. 

The air was bad and the place dark, with no means of 
ventilating or lighting it. She could reach out in any direc- 
tion and touch the wall. Talk of narrow environment ! The 
mere thought of such living would be unendurable to a 
human creature, but the kingfishers viewed the matter in 
an entirely different light. The place was as comfortable as 
they could make it, and the only sort of a home suitable for 
the needs of the infant brood soon to dwell there. When the 
little dame's bones ached too much from occupying the 
cramped position necessary, she went outside for a little 
while to stretch her weary limbs, and, incidentally, caught a 
fish or two, breathed in a little ozone, and viewed the beauti- 
ful outside world, where later in the season she hoped to find 
much enjoyment with her family. 

For her spouse it was a season of equal loneliness, 
Though he kept the eggs warm while she was out on brief 
vacations, during the greater part of the day he sat on a 
bough of a neighboring tree, usually silent and motionless, 
but, now and then, when fish were scarce, he left his post long 
enough to capture an insect or field-mouse careless enough 
to come within range. Whenever seen he was certain to be 
alone, and if on his perch, with eyes fixed on the water. Oc- 

95 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

casionally his solitary vigil was broken by a plunge into its 
depths. 

After nearly every plunge he came up, apparently dry, 
with a fish, which, .after compressing the life out of with his 
mighty bill, he either swallowed head first or carried to his 
lonely mate in the tunnel in the bank. A shrill, rattling sound 
announced the catch, while a similar but softer rattle told 
his companion of his coming. Then a rattle told of his de- 
parture on another excursion, which was sure to be a profit- 
able one, for, as his name implies, he was a king among fish- 
ers. His grave and dignified bearing gave evidence to the fact 
that this was no misnomer. Some of his finny captives were 
as large as himself, though rarely. These were mutilated 
by his sharp-edged bill and pounded into softness against 
some limb or stone, then taken into his great throat. It made 
little difference to him that the fish could not all be swallowed 
at once. Without further mutilation he took in as much of 
it as his internal construction would allow, then waited; he 
was used to waiting. When his own digestion made it pos- 
sible for him to complete the transaction, he gave another 
gulp, and the captive was seen no more. Younger kingfish- 
ers might need assistance in getting their acquisitions under 
cover, but not he. 

His family line was a long one, dating back to the time 
when the gods dwelt on Olympus, and, if tradition could be 
credited, the gods themselves were implicated in the founding 
of the family. Since that time not one of its representatives 
had done aught to bring disgrace upon the name. Though 
its history had been marked by many a tragedy, no act of 
one of its members had made any of the line ashamed. 

Every kingfisher mother pointed with pride to her mate 
and taught her family to follow his example in all things. 

96 



THE LONE FISHER 

They were unlike other scions of royalty in that industry was 
a marked trait among them — industry fortified by intelli- 
gence, and supplemented by vigilance and loyalty. 

None but a wife prejudiced by love could call the lone 
fisherman handsome. Though his colors were attractive — 
grayish-blue with touches of white, and broad belt of a 
deeper shade — there was something wrong with his architec- 
ture. His head seemed too large for his body; his bill, the 
Greek nose of his ancestors, was far too large for his face; 
and his eyes were undeniably beady, giving him a crafty ap- 
pearance. He wore a crown, to be sure, as befitted one of his 
station, but it was often rakishly awry. And, worst of all, 
he walked on his legs, clear up to his drumsticks, instead of 
on his feet. 

But, like a dutiful wife, his mate never noticed the un- 
attractive points about him, but, instead, was wont to dwell 
on his sterling qualities. Indeed, as far as appearances were 
concerned, she herself was not unlike him, except that her 
belt was different in color. Like all wives and daughters of 
her race she was girdled by a band of reddish chestnut. 

As she sat in her darkened room she was often cheered 
by visits from her consort, who never came without bringing 
some dainty, in the shape of fish or frog. These were always 
graciously accepted and swallowed whole. It was only after 
his departure that the bones and other superfluous portions 
of his offering were disgorged. 

To a casual observer these might appear to litter up the 
house somewhat ; to the occupant they were necessary articles 
of furniture, on which the little ones would exercise their 
baby claws when they were old enough to go in for gym- 
nastics. 

In due course of time the infant bills poked their 

97 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

way through the weakened shells, and the nest was made 
lively by six squirming infants — featherless, shapeless, and 
blind. 

From the moment they came into the world they made 
constant demands upon the time and attention of both 
parents, who were made most uncomfortable by having to 
listen to almost ceaseless cries indicative of hunger and lone- 
liness. To satisfy both of these wants was impossible. Lone- 
liness their elders knew to be endurable, so they wisely de- 
cided to throw all their energies into the commissary de- 
partment. 

While the youngsters were in their early infancy the 
smaller forms of animal life to be found in the pond furnished 
a very satisfactory menu. These had to be pushed far down 
into the elastic throats of the infants. With luscious water- 
beetles, tadpoles, leeches and countless minnows, the awkward 
little bodies were stuffed into shape. Provisions of a coarser 
nature the older birds ground up among the bones in their 
own crops before dispensing. 

At this stage in their lives, at a glance one would hardly 
be able to tell whether these stuffy, squirming creatures were 
birds or reptiles. As they grew, their eyes opened and 
numerous dark points began to push themselves out all over 
the bodies. Their wardrobe for the season, the soft beautiful 
feathers to be, was done up in these hard coverings, which 
would open soon at the outer end and gradually be cast off 
in the form of scaly dust. 

When the little ones were not being fed, or sleeping, 
they were scrambling about, over and among each other, 
hardening their muscles and growing as fast as they could. 
It was their only means of varying the monotony. With 
absolutely nothing to see it was necessary for them to find 

98 



THE LONE FISHER 

some other form of amusement, so they scrambled over and 
pinched and teased and snapped at each other like young 
kittens. 

By and by the most venturesome ones began to make 
short excursions into the passageway which led to the out- 
side world, but, on hearing a parent approaching, always 
scuttled quickly back, that the family group might be com- 
plete at the reception — a reception at which refreshments 
were to be served. 

A rattling sound announced the coming of the visitors, 
and this sound they were now learning to imitate. Soon it 
came to pass that the proud parents were almost invariably 
greeted and dismissed by the muffled rattling of the infants. 

In common with all birds living in holes, they learned 
to hiss, too, and often responded by hissing angrily when 
snapped at by one of their number, as they tumbled about 
with many an awkward gesture. 

One luckless day, never to be forgotten by the mother, 
a strange sound from the outside world reached them — a 
sound which made their baby feathers stand on end with 
fright, a sensation hitherto unknown to them. They did not 
know what it was, but instinct told them it was something 
dreadful. Their mother would have understood, but she was 
away, far up the river on a marketing expedition. The 
father, too, had gone foraging, down the river. In fear and 
trembling they huddled together and anxiously awaited the 
return of their protectors. 

After a time the mother came with the customary sup- 
plies. The comfort of her presence, even though momentary, 
was sufficient to banish all fear. By the time dinner was 
dispatched they had forgotten all about the experience. 

The father they never saw again. On leaving home he 

99 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

had flown to his usual post of watchfulness, and, perching 
on the accustomed limb, had begun his solitary vigil with no 
thought of danger to himself. Motionless he sat, with a calm 
born of faith in his own powers. Though the time of wait- 
ing might have seemed long to others, he was not dis- 
couraged. Believing fully that all things come to him who 
waits, and, at the same time, attends to business, he kept his 
eye on the water till finally his faith was rewarded by the 
sight of a large fish coming down the stream — larger than 
any he had seen for days — and close behind it a smaller one. 
Prompt in decision, and impelled by hunger, he quickly made 
up his mind that the larger fish should be his own dinner, 
while the smaller one, more suited to their size, should be 
taken to the babies at home, if he could manage to catch 
both. 

A shiver of expectancy ruffled his crest, a nervous jerk 
of his tail betrayed his eagerness as he waited a moment for 
the coveted prey to come under his watch tower. Then, with 
open bill and head down, he dropped like a shot into the 
water. Though he had captured the prize his grasp was not 
secure. The captive almost escaped, for, in his excitement, 
his bill had barely closed on the tail. Emerging from the 
water, he deftly tossed his catch into the air and caught it 
again, as it fell head-first into his open bill, which, closing, 
crushed out life. The great distensible throat caught the 
mangled form in its grasp and drew it out of sight. No es- 
cape for any victim after reaching that, with its lining of 
downward-pointing papilla?. 

After waiting a moment for the fish to become settled, 
he started in pursuit of the smaller one he had seen. With a 
rattle of satisfaction he flew down the stream, casting his keen 
eye into every nook and corner. No lack of grace about the 

100 



THE LONE FISHER 

kingfisher now as his strong wings carried him along close 
to the water, sometimes almost touching it. With eager eye 
he searched both pools and shallows, but his prey had escaped. 

Then back he went to his old perch. It was the best 
place after all, for, like many another fisherman, he found 
watching and waiting infinitely more profitable than a more 
active quest. 

Shortly after, a boy in his wanderings chanced upon this 
spot, seldom disturbed by human visitations. With his gun 
he had come that way in search of some living target on which 
to improve his marksmanship, and seeing the lone watcher, 
aimed at him. A shot and a flash, and the kingfisher had 
gone to his reward. No real sportsman would have been 
guilty of shooting a bird useless to him or any one else, but 
the inexperienced boy thought not of this. Anything he 
could bring down was an object of pride. To satisfy this the 
solitary fisherman lost his life, a bird home was made deso- 
late, and a young family learned to know the pangs of 
hunger. 

The kingfisher's mate never knew what fate had befallen 
him — some misfortune, surely. One so devoted as he had 
always proved himself could never have deserted her in the 
time of greatest need. Their domestic life had been an ideal 
one. She remembered with pride his unremitting watchful- 
ness during those dark days in the burrow. The great heap 
of bones on the floor of it testified to both his industry and 
his unselfishness. Long days she watched hopefully for his 
return, but, gradually, hope died out and she knew that 
hereafter she must live her life without the comfort of com- 
panionship. The tragedy which founded the family was 
being repeated. The fate of her most remote ancestress was 
hers. 

101 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Though the joy had gone out of her life and her heart 
was heavy, the kingfisher mother had little time for mourn- 
ing. Their family, six hungry, helpless, unreasoning little 
ones, must be provided for. Heretofore the replenishing 
of the larder had taxed the strength of both parents; now the 
survivor must bear the burden alone. 

Fortunately the children were almost old enough to go 
out into the world, where they would learn to take care of 
themselves. 

Though there were occasional hungry days in the hole 
in the bank, the brave mother did her best, and, by always 
being careful about dividing the food evenly, the little ones 
were kept reasonably plump, as they grew from king- 
fisher babyhood to youth. They did not sleep as much as 
of yore, but continued rolling about, teasing and snapping 
playfully at each other, more every day, thus, unconsciously, 
making themselves strong enough to succeed in the new out- 
door life which was soon to be theirs. As they scrambled 
about in their play, every day their little claws grew stronger 
through clasping and unclasping the scattered bones. 

Now they were becoming venturesome enough to go far 
out into the passageway to meet their mother as she returned 
from her marketing, and were able to give her a rattling 
greeting almost as grown-up in its sound as her own. 

On coming to meet her, it never occurred to them to 
turn around and follow their bills when she drove them back 
into the oven-shaped dining-room before serving the custom- 
ary refreshments. They seemed to think that in going back 
to any place it was necessary to move backward, and this 
they always did. And so it was that from constant practice 
they learned to travel backward even faster than they did 
forward. The motive was stronger. Their forward move- 

102 




Photograph by James H. Miller 

YOUNG KINGFISHERS 

; Their first view of the beautiful outside world." 



THE LONE FISHER 

ments were prompted by idle curiosity, while hunger and 
warmth called them the other way. 

After their first view of the great outside world, where 
all good things to eat came from — a world so airy and green 
and beautiful — their dreams of a life there were many. More 
and more often they came to the opening of the passageway 
to feast their eyes on the beauty before them, and to breathe 
the cool, fresh air. Nothing but fear held them in the old 
home now. 

The tired mother, worn and thin from work and re- 
sponsibility, felt sure that they were now old enough to light- 
en her labors by taking care of themselves, so she decided to 
conquer their foolish fears. She did not feed them so often 
now, but allowed them to grow hungry enough to brave al- 
most any danger to satisfy the craving within them. Hunger 
is a wonderful inspiration sometimes. 

With fear warning him back and hunger beckoning him 
on, the bravest took the first flight. His very indecision 
decided the matter for him as he stood on the threshold, a lit- 
tle farther out than he had ever been before ; trying to make 
up his little mind which way to go, he lost his balance, and 
it was done. Without conscious effort the baby wings went 
up and down, little more than enough to break the fall, and 
before he knew it he was on the opposite side of the road. 

Bewildered he looked about. The beautiful green grass 
was all around him, and the cool, soft, moist ground under 
him — so different from the hard, dry earth to which he was 
accustomed. And how different the odors were, too ! Noth- 
ing fishy about the smell of this place, but, instead, the sweet 
odor of purple flags, and growing grasses, and fresh green 
willows. 

Of course, he did not realize all this at first, but it came 

105 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

to him gradually as he sat on his shanks and threw out his 
breast in pride at his accomplishment. Such long, deep 
breaths he took as he had never taken before. 

How brave and strong he felt ! 

Soon he was followed by his baby sister, who came and 
saw him do it all. His bravery had given her confidence. His 
going had looked so simple that she followed with hardly any 
fear. Indeed, she alighted with a faint rattle of bravery. 
With brief intervals between, one by one, they were joined 
by the others. 

Returning after an unusually long absence, there the 
mother found them scattered about among the tall grasses. 
How proud she was to see them out here in the light ! Quite 
like herself they looked in their coats of bright blue, and 
collars and belts of chestnut. The resemblance was certainly 
striking. 

It was really the first time she had ever seen them in 
the light. Of course she had caught occasional glimpses of 
them backing into the tunnel to make room for her home- 
coming, but as for seeing all of any one of them, she had 
never had the pleasure. As she moved about among them, 
rattling her approval, such pride as she felt in them only a 
mother could understand. They were but four weeks old — « 
possibly a few days older — yet they looked almost like grown-- 
up birds — from the front, at least — but when they turned 
around their brevity of tail betrayed their youth. 

After a few days they were moving around quite com- 
fortably among the flags and grasses, as comfortably as 
though they had always lived there. They went forward 
mostly now, for backing around among grasses and things 
wasn't altogether pleasant. Besides, now that they had the 
advantages of light, they were beginning to like to see where 

106 




O p 

g I 



THE LONE FISHER 

they were going. In the hole it had been different ; there was 
nothing to interfere with their feathers there — the few they 
had ; there was only one place to go, and it was dark, anyway. 

They learned to pick up food in most unexpected places 
— in the water, on the ground, among the willows. Baby 
toads, out walking for the first time, were among the choicest 
morsels which they foimd in these early days on the ground. 
These, together with great, juicy water-beetles, tender frogs, 
and an occasional fish which their mother brought them, kept 
them plump and cheerful. 

However, life was not all enjoyment. There were dan- 
gers which made them look back with longing on the comfort 
and seclusion of their pin-feather youth. Hawks circled over 
them; owls swept by on soft wings at night; while water- 
rats were always near; snakes and weasels moved about 
among the grasses; and all were looking for just such dain- 
ties as baby birds. 

Their wise mother warned them in kingfisher language 
to beware, but, inexperienced as they were, they could not 
always be on the lookout for enemies when food was to be 
hunted. One thing at a time was as much as they could at- 
tend to. 

Often they mounted dead branches to look abroad on 
the world and see where the best foraging grounds were. 
A most engaging family with many winning ways! The 
restlessness of childhood was giving place to the quiet dig- 
nity of grown-up kingfisherhood. Though broad smiles 
sometimes gave evidence of their enjoyment, they never 
laughed aloud, as the flicker's noisy children often did; and 
when things went wrong they manifested their displeasure, 
by only a ruffle of the crest or an impatient flip of the tail — 

109 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

never by screaming and jumping up and down after the 
manner of the woodpecker's noisy progeny. 

As time went by the family group grew noticeably 
smaller. One by one they disappeared, who may guess 
where? — none but their enemies could give the answer — till 
only two of them remained — the strongest and the wariest 
of them all. Their mother rarely saw them. Possibly she 
did not know that any were gone, as they had not been to- 
gether for some time — at least she showed no sign. 

The remaining ones scuttled and flew about among the 
reeds and willows. Often they wet their feet in the cool 
water or tumbled into its shady depths as they tried to get 
some of the living things which they saw there. They were 
awkward at first, but by and by they became more and more 
accurate in their calculations. Instinct was their teacher 
mainly, though they learned some few things by observation. 

After watching their mother drop into the water and 
come up with a fish, they tried, and after a few trials were 
able to succeed in like endeavor. At first, refraction both- 
ered them — the fish was never just where it seemed to be — 
but they soon learned to make allowances. Even then there 
were times when they were sure of making a catch, and, just 
as they were about to do so, the fish turned over and flashed 
his silvery side on them as a boy flashes a mirror. Then 
they always missed. There were many things to learn, but 
with experience for their teacher, and ready memories, they 
soon learned them. 

Summer waned and the nights grew cold. All the other 
birds about the pond had departed. Through a fatality 
which a hawk had occasioned there was only one young king- 
fisher now. The nights grew colder. Both mother and 
child had to fluff out their feathers considerably and perch 

110 



THE LONE FISHER 

closer to the tree trunks in order to keep warm when the 
chill winds blew. One morning when they went to look for 
a breakfast they found that Mother Nature, at the bidding 
of the frost king, had locked their storehouse for the winter. 
Nothing was left for them to do but to fly away in search of 
food elsewhere. 

Remembering her experience of yesteryear, the sensible 
mother decided to follow the stream which had provided for 
them so bountifully in the days of their prosperity. After 
one last long look at the scene of their joys and sorrows, a 
scene which would linger long in their memories, down the 
river they went, the mother leading and the young one, now 
as large and almost as strong as herself, following. Stop- 
ping only occasionally for needed rest and the scant refresh- 
ment to be found at that season on the ground — on down 
they flew, past the place where the stream joined a larger 
one, and that a still larger one, and across broad waters, till 
they reached a spot which reminded them somewhat of the 
old home in its palmiest days. Though like the old home 
in a way, it was different ; there was a bank — more cozy than 
the home bank — and water — but the plants were not at all 
like those they had known. 

They knew it was best for them to stay here for a time, 
so they made the best of things, but they could not feel any 
attachment for the place. Their hearts were in the North, 
where life is not a mere matter of eating and drinking — the 
place where homes are made. All winter they longed for 
it. till, at last, when spring was coming on, they could endure 
the homesickness no longer. 

Over the water they went, and on up the river and on. 
It was a long and weary journey, but not half so long as it 
had seemed in the autumn, for home was at the end of it. 

113 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

On the way they fell in with others of their kind, journeying 
in the same direction and drawn by the same yearnings. 
These new acquaintances, though, were but for a day or two, 
for each returned to the home of his childhood, there to re- 
peat the experiences of the kingfishers of other years. 

In our drives during the coming season, if we should 
catch a glimpse of one of these earnest, silent watchers 
perched on a branch overhanging the water, how many of 
us will betray our belief in the doctrine of metempsychosis 
by seeing in the lone creature not a mere bird, but, instead, 
the faithful spirit of the once beautiful Halcyone, reincar- 
nated — earnestly gazing out across the water in the vain 
hope that it may some day bring back to her her lost love, 
and that companionship which the lone spirit ever craves? 



114 



Revenge, at first though sweet, 
Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils. 

Milton — Paradise Lost. 



115 



THE ORIGIN OF THE HAWK 

THE powerful Thracian, King Tereus, that his influ- 
ence might be extended, wedded the daughter of 
Pandion, King of Athens. The gods, displeased 
with this union, refused to attend the nuptials ; neither Juno, 
the guardian of marriage rites, nor Hymenaaus, nor the 
Graces were present, but the Furies, brandishing torches 
snatched from a funeral pile, attended and accompanied the 
pair to the abode of Tereus. As the party journeyed thither, 
croaking ravens flew to the left of them, and on their arrival 
the ill-boding owl hovered over the bridal chamber. With 
these omens were Tereus and the daughter of Pandion 
wedded. 

After Titan had drawn the seasons of the repeated year 
through five successive autumns, the queen, with the home- 
longing still in her heart, and with love for her own made 
stronger by long absence, entreated her spouse to either allow 
her to return to her father's home for a season or to go thither 
himself and bring back her only sister for a visit. In answer 
to her beseechings, ships were launched and Tereus set out 
on his journey to urge the request of his queen. 

At first Pandion hesitated about parting with his re- 
maining daughter, the comfort of his age, for even so short 
a time as asked; but finally, yielding to the eloquence of 
Tereus, he tearfully commended her to his care on the prom- 
ise of her speedy return. 

117 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

When the waves urged by the oars had borne them away 
from the shore and a father's care, the faithless Tereus, for- 
getful of his queen at home, made love to the beautiful sister. 
Having been repulsed by the maiden, he, on landing, shut 
her up in a tower and cut out her tongue to prevent her 
making known his perfidy. On meeting his queen he, with 
feigned sorrow, reported her sister as among the dead and 
mourned with her over the loss. 

But the imprisoned one, though through the loss of her 
tongue deprived of speech, found other means of communi- 
cating with the deceived queen. She skilfully wove her story 
in purple and white into a web of barbarian design, and by 
signs persuaded an attendant to deliver it to her sister, who 
immediately understood. 

The queen, having delivered her injured sister from 
captivity, had her brought to the court of Tereus, where to- 
gether the two, made cruel by their wrongs, planned their 
revenge. 

Itys, the young son of Tereus, whose birth had been 
attended by many boding signs, was slain by the two and 
served on the table of his father; the attendants were re- 
moved, according to the rites of that country, and the king 
feasted alone, thus becoming the sepulchre of his son. 

When the horrible repast was completed, Tereus, on 
calling for Itys, was given by the queen the whole story in 
language such as he deserved. 

Frantic with grief and anger, with drawn sword he 
pursued the daughters of Pandion, who, in their flight, by 
their wishes were given wings, as was also the pursuer. 

Philomela fled to the woods to hide among the leaves 
of the trees, where, in the voice of the nightingale, she may 
ever be heard in mournful melody lamenting the death of 

118 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 

THE ANGRY TEREUS AS HE LOOKS TODAY 

(RED-TAILED HAWK) 



THE ORIGIN OF THE HAWK 

Itys and her family's dishonor. Progne sought refuge under 
the eaves of houses, whence she ever darts forth at twilight to 
seek among others of her kind the reincarnated spirit of the 
slain Itys; and though she vainly tries to tell her story in 
song, her mutilated tongue yields only brief twitterings, 
while on her breast she still bears the red stain of her crime. 
Tereus, as a hawk, with armed face and close-clutching 
grasp, is ever either pursuing or hovering in the air, awaiting 
an opportunity for revenge upon the smaller birds, who to 
him are the fleeing daughters of Pandion. 



121 



HAWK LIFE 

ON acquaintance with that rapacious bird of regal ele- 
gance, the red-shouldered hawk, one of the most 
common as well as most representative of his kind, 
or with his brother, the red-tailed, equally elegant and even 
more widely distributed, the story of the transformation of 
Tereus is easily credited. On some daring squirrel whisking 
through the trees, or some heedless song-bird stirring the 
leaves as he alights for a moment upon a branch above the 
bough where the hawk sits cruelly alert, what anger and 
hatred he shows! 

His enmity, which in the long-ago was directed only 
toward the fleeting, flitting, light-winged swallow, who, in 
her fear, dared not pause in her flight even when tortured 
by hunger, and the timorous nightingale hiding in the shel- 
tering wood, strengthened by long continuance, now em- 
braces all living creatures too small or weak to resist him. 
The fierce, demoniacal cries which he occasionally allows to 
escape him as he swings across the fruitful meadow marshes 
in quest of prey might well come from one bereft and crazed, 
by grief, on vengeance bent. 

There are a number of hawks common to America, some 
of local and others of general distribution, the largest, the 
osprey, or fish hawk, having the proud distinction of being 
purveyor to the eagle. The next in size, and the most beau- 

122 



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v' '..V 



',■■:; 



/v 



^"'■:,v,.i 



5R3 

A3& 



Photograph by Edward Warren 

NEST OF THE RED-TAILED HAWK 



HAWK LIFE 

tiful, are the red-tailed and the red-shouldered — commonly 
known as hen hawks, though it has been proven that the 
number of young chickens they destroy is unworthy of notice 
when compared with the vast number of mice and other small 
animals which they retire from circulation. To every chicken 
captured as many as a hundred of the latter are taken. The 
real menaces to the poultry yard are the sharp-shinned 
Coopers and the marsh hawk, all of these being able to dart 
down, secure their booty, and be off before they are noticed. 

The rough-legged, or black hawk, is the most nocturnal 
of the family, choosing the late evening, when small animals 
are abroad, as his season of greatest activity. The sparrow 
hawk, the smallest and, next to the rough-legged, the most 
graceful member of the family, is the most proficient mouser 
and an active enemy of the brown grasshopper known as 
the "tobacco spitter." One bird alone will destroy two hun- 
dred or more of these in a single day. 

Some varieties are watch-tower hunters who perch on 
stumps, leafless trees, or haystacks, or hang suspended in 
the air waiting for their victims to pass under them. Others 
are brush and grass beaters, while some employ both meth- 
ods, but all are more or less cannibalistic, and all are valuable 
as destroyers of harmful animal and insect life. 

With keen eyes exploring the grasses and low, herbace- 
ous growths for the tiny, helpless creatures either crouching 
there in fear or peacefully nibbling the succulent roots, back 
and forth beats the hawk with alternate wing-tips brushing 
the tops of the vegetation to flush his prey, sending the little 
refugees scurrying in every direction, or causing them to 
crouch close to the ground : frightened meadow-mice hide in 
their covered runways or seek shelter in their domed dwell- 
ings; wriggling snakes sinuously betake themselves to their 

125 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

holes; and warty toads close their bright eyes and trust their 
earthy color to protect them. 

Often the vigilant hunter snatches up his victim with 
no pause in his flight, then sweeps on to some perch where 
he can enjoy his sanguinary feast at leisure. 

Even his ominous shadow passing over them as this rav- 
enous bird of Jupiter swims above in the heavens, is enough 
to strike terror to the creatures who know him as an enemy 
— for any moment he is likely to drop down upon them as 
though shot from the sky. On descending thus to earth he 
clasps his hapless victim in his crooked and almost invariably 
fatal talons. Even though his clutch should accidentally 
prove insecure, his wings and tail enclose his quarry in a 
prison from which there is no avenue of escape save that 
beneath his armed beak. 

Yet this bird, hated by the unthinking partly because 
of his rapacity, but more because of reputed visits to the 
poultry yard, is not without his merits. The same wings 
that in the meadows surround and imprison his prey, are used 
in his home life to form a vaulted cover to protect from the 
heat of the sun and also from storms and rain, his helpless 
young, for whom he cares most tenderly. However cruel 
he may be to his enemies, to his own he is gentle as any bird 
in the wood. Proudly he assists his constant mate in plum- 
ing her beautiful feathers and lovingly he strokes both her 
and the little ones with the beak that is looked upon as cruel 
by those who have with him only a belligerent acquaintance. 

His unmusical, muttering monologue when alone and his 
fierce cry when pouncing upon his quarry both suggest the 
transformed Tereue; but his soft, muffled utterances when 
attending to the wants of his offspring hark back to the time 

126 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

THE HAWK SPREADING OVER PREY 

'' The wings and tail enlose his quarry in a prison from which 
there is no avenue of escape except beneath his armed beak." 



HAWK LIFE 

of the loving father before the disruption of the Thracian 
home. 

Seldom attacking any creature capable of resistance, 
the hawk, though of brave appearance, is really a coward. 
The warrior crow, though much smaller than he, through 
sheer bravery is able to put him to rout, and occasionally a 
group of smaller birds, emboldened by numbers, mob him; 
yet the peaceable hen, many times the size of either, is boldly 
approached and carried off by this wary bird. 

On his list of those who may be attacked safely are the 
various kinds of squirrels, rabbits, crawfish, reptiles, lizards, 
frogs, toads, musk-rats, common rats, mice, skunks, opos- 
sums, grasshoppers and crickets. The indigestible portions 
of these are ejected from the throat in the form of compact 
pellets similar to "owl balls." 

Driven to the harsh necessity of securing the meat diet 
on which alone he can subsist, he is doomed to a life of per- 
petual quest and conquest of those creatures whose chief 
business in life is to elude him. Notice how his calling has 
sharpened his vision and shaped his beak and claws, the tools 
of his guild. Even the baby hawks still in the nest have these 
characteristic features most strongly marked. 

With a wing expanse of four or five feet and the power 
of inflating his body with air at pleasure, the hawk is sublime- 
ly picturesque in his cloud-piercing evolutions of flight, as 
in ever-narrowing spirals he mounts to the cooler regions 
of the air when the heat below proves disagreeable. With 
scarcely a motion of his great wings he circles and careens 
about at a height of hundreds of feet, at times even seeming 
to remain for a season suspended in the sky in a perfectly 
stationary attitude. 

While these birds are attached to their home locality, 

129 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

they are known to take long flights. Nuttall relates an in- 
stance of one of this family, a Canary falcon, that was sent 
to the Duke of Lerma, and that returned in sixteen hours 
from Andalusia to the Island of Teneriffe, a distance of 
seven hundred and fifty miles. It is said that were it not 
for the power of inflation, not of the lungs alone, but of their 
whole bodies, the swiftness with which these, as well as some 
other birds, move through the air, would cause suffocation. 

The esthetic value of the hawk lies wholly in his 
sublimity of flight and in his majesty of form and attractive- 
ness of color, for no beautiful Dryad ever taught him to sing. 
Even his love notes are uttered in strident, raucous tones, 
harsh as the jay's muster call, but happily they are under- 
stood by his sympathetic mate, who knows the heart of her 
lord, who has improved on the ways of the founder of the 
family. With them as with other rapacious birds, the con- 
jugal bond is perpetual. 

As we come to know these picturesque birds better we 
learn that they, in common with all other living creatures, 
have both their faults and their merits. Though through 
their fondness for flesh many a downy chick fails to reach 
maturity, many a tuneful warbler is called to his reward, and 
the billowy trail of song following many a goldfinch becomes 
only a memory echo, were it not for their assistance our 
farms would soon be overrun by pests impossible to hold in 
check by artificial means. When even the worst of hawks 
are weighed in the balance the greatest weight will be found, 
invariably, upon the side of beneficent service. 



130 







mjr 



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Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 

YOUNG RED-SHOULDERED HAWKS 

" His calling has sharpened his vision, and shaped his beak 
and claws, the tools of his guild. Even the baby hawks 
have these characteristic features most strongly marked." 



In such a strait the wisest may well be perplexed. 

Burke. 



IB 



HOW THE BUZZARD OR VULTURE WAS 
CLOTHED 

(IROQUOIS LEGEND) 

IN the beginning, birds were created without covering. 
Ashamed of their long legs and ill-shaped bodies, they 
hid themselves among trees and rocks. They were 
also without song, as their throats had not yet been fitted 
for producing music. Long afterward, when this power 
had come to them, they learned their songs from whisper- 
ing leaves, falling rain, running brooks and whistling winds. 

But being endowed with speech, they continually com- 
plained of their fate, and with one accord shouted and cried 
aloud to the Great Spirit, asking for coverings. Soon the 
message came to them that their garments were ready, at 
a certain place a long way off, but that each bird must attend 
to the fitting of his own. 

A messenger must be sent, as a vote was immediately 
taken. Because of his great strength and superior powers 
of endurance, the choice of the assemblage was the turkey 
buzzard. Proud of the trust reposed in him he started on his 
mission. 

But as the journey was long and no provision had been 
made for food, he was tortured by hunger till, able to endure 
its pangs no longer, he was driven to eat carrion to sustain 
life. 

On arriving at the appointed place he found the gar- 
ments ready, and, as a reward, he was allowed first choice. 

135 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Without hesitation, he selected the most beautiful among 
them, but discovered upon trying it on that, in its long feath- 
ers, flying would be difficult, so it was laid aside. From one 
to another he went, but there was some fault to be found with 
each. One was not warm enough, another would attract too 
much attention, another would soil too easily. So he went 
through the entire collection till he came to the last — the 
coarsest, ugliest, plainest among them — and too small to be 
drawn up over the face, as all the others could be worn. But 
as he had been forbidden to try on any garment more than 
once, he must either take the one he has worn ever since that 
day, or go uncovered. 

When birds congregate to-day, they often twit the buz- 
zard with reference to his unattractive dress, and taunt him 
with his uncleanly habits; but he invariably reminds them 
that he had the first choice and selected the one that pleased 
him best among all bird coverings, and that his habits were 
acquired through doing a service for others. 



136 







Photograph by Ernest Harold Baynes 

TURKEY VULTURE 



VULTURE LIFE 

WITH necks drawn down and shoulders thrown high, 
and with limbs crouching in the constant but 
vain endeavor to make their abbreviated, shingled 
coats cover the roughened and reddened flesh of their naked 
heads and at the same time hide from view their unshape- 
ly bodies, generations of vultures have suffered from the in- 
convenience and embarrassment entailed on them by the in- 
decision of their primal father. Brevity of raiment is notice- 
able in even the young vulture, though not so marked as in 
the case of their elders. In youth, grayish, furry feathers 
form a ruff and cap for the shrinking bird; but, for some 
reason, these disappear on its arrival at maturity, when the 
warty head shows ugly and bare. 

The gloomy cloak of the adult is not only too short at 
the top, but at the bottom also, where it allows the ungainly, 
wrinkled feet to protrude below it in such a way that their 
owner, as though ashamed and unwilling to expose them 
more than is needful by walking after the manner of other 
feathered creatures, must needs move from place to place, 
when on the ground, in awkward jumps — a form of locomo- 
tion more pronounced in the black than in the turkey vulture. 
With such a wardrobe and with such physical defects, is it 
at all surprising that this bird shuns the main thoroughfares 
and confines his urban wanderings to dumps and alleys? Is 

139 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

it any wonder that he does not appear on the concert plat- 
form? 

The vulture's lack of song cannot be attributed to size 
entirely, for other birds equally large are not without musical 
ability. With the coming dawn for inspiration, chanticleer 
wakes the world with his matin; strolling about in the sun- 
shine, his portly spouse gives tuneful utterance to her enjoy- 
ment; on the approach of rain guineas and peafowls pour 
forth paeans of thanksgiving, while the funereal vulture is 
almost as silent as the dead on which he preys. Nothing 
seems to touch the song spring in his nature. 

In vocal expression, there is evidence of decadence in 
the vulture family, for, although Indian tradition states plain- 
ly that its early members were able to express themselves 
freely in speech, they are now the most taciturn of birds, an 
occasional "wah," a low, hissing sound, and a grunt — seem- 
ingly inspired by overeating — are to-day all they have to 
give the world in the way of language. 

The accidental meal with which the embassador vulture 
refreshed himself on that ancient but memorable journey, 
seems to have determined the gustatory tastes of his clan 
for all succeeding ages. Since that time only decaying 
food has the power to charm their palates, though it is said 
that under stress of hunger these birds attack and kill de« 
f enseless small birds and animals by piercing their eyes. Pu- 
trid animal matter, the choicest item on the vulture menu, is 
earnestly sought and eagerly devoured by them. This is gen- 
erally supposed to be due to lack of strength in claws 
incapable of tearing flesh that has not been weakened by 
decay. 

In finding their food, vultures are not dependent upon 
the sense of smell, as is commonly believed. Like all other 

140 




Photograph by Ernest Harold Baynes 

YOUNG TURKEY VULTURE 

' In youth grayish, furry feathers form 
a ruff and cap for the shrinking bird." 



VULTURE LIFE 

birds, devoid of outer nostrils, they are guided entirely by 
sight. The experiment has been tried of placing a dead ani- 
mal under a table, where the breezes could circulate freely 
about it and bear the odor of putridity to those likely to 
appreciate it most, with the result that none came to the feast, 
though it was perfectly accessible, while the mere pictured 
carcass of another drew a throng of would-be banqueters. 

In southern cities these dark scavengers, who form a 
self-constituted sanitary commission, are regularly depend- 
ed upon to consume refuse about butcher shops and to rid 
garbage heaps of such matter as is suited to vulture tastes. 
After their visitations, nothing of animal origin remains 
that is sufficiently decayed to render digestion unnecessary. 

In the rural districts of that region, as well as through- 
out the Mississippi Valley, they render equally valuable 
service in disposing of perished animals on the farms and 
plains. On the taking off of one of these, a group of the 
uncanny birds is certain to attend the wake. The lifeless 
body is covered with a living pall as the ghoulish guests 
partake of the funeral feast. Tearing away the outer flesh, 
they feed on the vitals of the dead as did the mythic vulture 
on the vitals of the living Prometheus. With crowding and 
pushing in the efforts of the feathered appetites to procure 
more favorable locations, the gluttonous revel continues till 
satiety brings it to a close, when the feasters, if not too full 
for locomotion, betake themselves to neighboring trees, where 
they remain till hours of slothfulness return to them strength 
for another attack. 

The home of the black vulture is in the South, while the 
turkey vulture is distributed over the whole of the inland 
portion of America, including the mountainous section. The 
California condor, the largest of the vultures, is the most 

143 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

shy, and the black the least so, of the family, the latter paying 
little more attention to man than common domestic fowls do. 

The black vultures of the South betray their dislike of 
cold in their habits of gathering on cool days around chim- 
neys for warmth, and in lying about on the sunny sides of 
roofs and spreading their wings to receive every ray of sun- 
shine available; and when thunderstorms arise they betake 
themselves to regions beyond the clouds, where they com- 
fortably ride the air above the storm. 

Mr. Beebe tells of seeing in Mexico flocks of thousands 
of these birds rising in a revolving, cone-shaped mass till, 
on reaching a great height, where they seemed no larger than 
flies, they disbanded and disappeared among the clouds. 

The turkey vulture, the most graceful in flight, possesses 
a remarkable stretch of wing as well as wonderful buoyancy. 
One writer tells of watching the aerial maneuvres of one of 
this species, and on timing it he discovered that in twenty 
minutes but a single stroke of the wings was given. 

Though when on the ground the habits of these efficient 
members of the public service preclude admiration, though 
there they have little picturesque value and are tolerated 
only on account of their economic worth — when their broad 
wings bear them aloft into the heavens, their flight expresses 
the utmost grace. On seeing them swinging upward in 
diminishing spirals, and majestically sweeping the sky on 
almost motionless wings, all their former awkwardness, all 
their imperfections, are forgotten. 



144 



The robin and the redbreast, 

The robin and the wren, 
If ye take out of the nest 

Ye'll never thrive again. 
The robin and the redbreast, 

The martin and the swallow, 
If ye touch one of their eggs 

Bad luck will sure to follow. 

— Essex Rhyme. 



145 



GENESIS OF THE ROBIN 

AMONG the Chippewas, as among some other tribes 
of Indians, when a son became old enough to leave 
boyhood behind and to take his place among the 
braves of his people, it was necessary for him to pass through 
a season of fasting — twelve long days and nights — during 
which the great Manitou would come to him and free him 
from his childhood's nature and in its stead give to him the 
strength and endurance of a braver manhood. One unable 
to endure this test to the end would be forever despised of 
his tribe, and would not be allowed to join with the braves in 
the hunt, or to go with them into battle. 

Because of his gentle nature, when his time of trial ar- 
rived, the son of a great chief did not wish to follow his father 
into the deep forest to the trial lodge, which was to be the 
scene of his fasting. Though he was brave, he did not wish 
to be as the warriors who went forth to kill. He longed only 
to make others happy. 

But the chief commanded and the son dared not refuse. 
During the long walk he was sad at heart, though the father 
sought to cheer him by telling him how the tribe would honor 
him when he appeared at the great feast to be served when 
he had proved himself strong to endure. Thus the father 
talked, every now and then stopping to mark the trees in 
the picture language of the Indian, that the way to their 
wigwam might not be lost. 

147 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

On arriving, he spread for the youth the mat of reeds 
the Indian mother had proudly woven for him, her first- 
born, and who now laid himself face downward upon it, be- 
side the great bow and arrows and tomahawk of his father. 

With a heavy heart he heard the sound of the father's 
footsteps growing fainter and fainter as he departed; then 
he was alone with the silence. 

All through the long day and the long night he lay there 
alone. Morning, bringing light and gladness to others, 
brought no joy to the sad youth in the forest. 

When the father came to ask if any dreams had come 
to him, the boy replied: "O my father, such dreams as you 
wish will never come to me. Let me give up this cruel fast- 
ing and return with you to our wigwam." But the father, 
whose Indian pride prevented his yielding to the beseechings 
of his child, would talk only of the glad time when the fast 
would be ended, and told of the days of his own fasting with 
their glorious ending. 

Each day with cheering words the chief returned, only to 
find the youth growing weaker. On the tenth morning he 
did not rise to greet the father as he had done before. His 
weakened limbs would no longer support him. 

"Spare me, O my father, and take me home," he whis- 
pered; "no dreams will come. I am so weak that surely 
death will take me before the great Manitou comes. Give 
me food that I may break this dreadful fast." 

But the unyielding chief replied: "If you wait with 
brave and patient heart, my son, soon you shall be a great 
hunter, never knowing lack of food; you shall be a great 
warrior, wise as the fox and strong as the bear; and many 
scalps you shall wear at your belt. Better that you should 

148 




Photograph by Francis H. Herr 

ROBIN FEEDING YOUNG 

Their days were spent in diligently providing for 
the family whose days were a continual repast." 



GENESIS OF THE ROBIN 

die of hunger than that boy and squaw should cry: * Shame 
upon your father's son!' Be brave!" 

On the eleventh day the youth had grown so faint with 
fasting that his voice could no longer be heard. Still the 
father said: "Be brave!" And again the dying footsteps 
and the silence and the hunger! 

While yet the dew glistened on the hemlock boughs, 
on the following morning the chief hastened to the trial 
lodge, bearing thick-boiled sap and meat of moose to revive 
the famished youth. But to his "Rise and eat, my son. Come, 
the great feast is spread," no answer came. Only an echo 
was heard. 

As he stopped to listen, a bird, such as he had never seen, 
on a bough nearby, called to him. Thinking some evil spirit 
had lured the boy away and had returned in bird form to 
mock at him, the father raised his bow to shoot. 

"Do not shoot," sang the bird, as if with human tongue. 
"No evil spirit has harmed me; a good spirit came to me and 
bade me live. The pathway of the spirits I shall never walk, 
but will ever live on the earth as you see me now. Though 
I shall never be a strong warrior, I am still your son and 
shall always be brave. My food I shall find among the 
hills and valleys, and in taking it, I shall help your people. 
Mourn not for me, my father, for my happiness will come 
through helping others, not through destroying them. And 
the song I sing from the trees will be what my heart is ever 
calling: 'Be more gentle; be more loving.' " 

In the moon of melting snows, when the buds swell red 
on the maples, the opeechee calls in joyful tones to us to-day 
as he did to the Indian of old. 

In the early morning, before the first faint streaks of 
dawn appear, out of the graying darkness his glad voice calls 

151 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

to all his people to arise and see the coming of each beautiful 
new day, and when as the hours go by, they grow tired and 
faint with hunger, he still calls to them from among the 
branches, and bids them, "Be brave" — a message always fol- 
lowed by a sweeter one, "Be more gentle; be more loving." 



152 



ROBIN LIFE 

SCARCELY has earth's great white death-sheet been 
transformed into living waters that hasten to free the 
ice-bound streams, when the robin is heard in brief 
tones calling to-day as he did to his kindred of old — calling 
to all living things to be brave and come forth from their 
hiding places; assuring all feathered creatures that a feast 
is soon to follow. And when we hear the call we know that 
a rapidly approaching springtime is pushing winter into the 
northland. 

The little messenger with ruddy breast does not deliver 
his tidings from some lofty far-away station, but coming 
near to earth, and perching on a lowly bough, in a voice of 
soulful sympathy he repeats the words of the ancient chief- 
tain: "Be brave!" And, while they come to us like an echo 
out of the past, they are uttered partly, no doubt, for self- 
encouragement. 

On his arrival, though his voice expresses bravery and 
cheer, there is not the glad joy in it that we hear later when 
his mate arrives. Before that the days have not yet cast off. 
the winter's chill, and there is really very little to sing about. 
Yet the first note of the robin is deemed by all the most certain 
of vernal promises — that and the bluebird's early warble. 
This song of his, dispelling the winter's silence and drawing 
his hearers into the great current of anticipation, makes the 
winter naught but a lingering memory. 

153 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Later in the season, when all the earth is teeming with 
life and the vernal chorus is at the full, in the early morning 
hours the robin's awakening voice heralds the coming of 
each new day as he calls out that earth's great dark slumber- 
robe is being taken away, and the time is come to rouse from 
the inactivity of the night. The faintest purpling of the east 
is the signal for the hair-bird's thin, incisive prelude to the 
avian hymn of the morn. Then the robin takes up the mes- 
sage in a voice that carries, and soon all the morning air is 
athrob with the voices of innumerable singers in an anthem 
that, breaking our slumbers, hallows the dawn. If there 
be such, distance obliterates all discord and all imperfection, 
With such inspiration, is it any wonder that man in the long 
ago learned to express himself in musical tones? 

In this matin hymn of the woodland choir the robin's 
voice leads all the rest. Even when the great flood of song 
has reached full swell his tones can still be clearly dis- 
tinguished, and when, with the growing light, he withdraws 
from the chorus, the song dies out with the darkness, like a 
lullaby that is ended. 

Then for a season all the feathered creatures of the 
wood give themselves up to the pleasures of the feast spread 
before them. It is now that the countless forms of creeping 
insect life are abroad, drawn from their diurnal retreats 
under leaves and grasses by the alluring damps of the night. 
The hymn just heard from these feathered songsters, while 
it seemed to us but the outpouring of devotional spirit, was 
to those of their kind also an invitation to the feast, or, if 
you will, a tuneful grace before meals. 

To some, more beautiful than this is the robin's even- 
song, sung after the catbird and the red thrush, from their 
haunts in grape-vine tangles, have called their farewell to 

154 



ROBIN LIFE 

departing day. In late spring at eventide, when the very 
atmosphere is permeated and aglow with vernal color, fill- 
ing the grove with a green glory, when the lingering echo 
of the liquid tones of the wood thrush is still in our hearts, 
and the faint twitter of retiring birds fills the place with 
audible as well as scenic beauty, the robin, chanting his 
persuasive lay, "Be more gentle; be more loving," seems 
not to be preaching to us so much as to be voicing the spirit 
of the grove. As the tuneful hour of dawn is hallowed by 
his matin hymn, the hour of twilight is made sacred by his 
vesper. 

When robin arrived from the southland, he hopped 
about for a time, seemingly with no special object in view, 
now that he had sung out his tidings of a nearby future, 
balmy and warm; but when his little mate arrived, there was 
work to be done as well as songs to be sung. For a few 
days they hopped about together over the rapidly greening 
ground, stopping every now and then to listen for the almost 
imperceptible sound of wriggling living creatures just under 
its surface, then, quickly burying their bills in the sod, they 
braced themselves for a tug, and brought forth a reluctant 
worm. 

Soon they began to look about for a location for a sum- 
mer adobe. Various trees in both orchard and grove were 
visited, but it was finally decided to reconstruct the tumble- 
down home of the previous year, on the outreaching bough 
of a young oak. Indeed, it had been their home for two years 
now! Then both set to work to make it habitable. 

First it was cleared of the dead leaves that had blown 
into it, and of other loose rubbish, then a few good new sticks 
and weed-stems were added, and a quantity of soft mud 
brought and molded into a neat cup by the shaping breast 

155 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

of the little dame, though her mate assisted in providing 
material and helping to place the soft grass lining. How 
little she seemed to care about her appearance! How worn 
and tired and bedraggled she looked while the work was 
going on! But this seeming carelessness was not to be a 
permanent defect in her character, for as soon as her house 
was plastered, she took a refreshing bath in a wayside pool, 
carefully arranged her feathers, and was again the neat, 
trim little creature to whom robin had paid court in the days 
just gone. 

This pool-bathing, by the way, is a time-honored cus- 
tom among robins. Often a number of them are seen in- 
dulging together in this form of recreation, then scattering 
to hop about the lawn or grass spots in the open woodland, 
in quest of grubs and worms — and never seen to better ad- 
vantage are these touches of living color, that add charm to 
any landscape. In the midst of winter, on hearing the robin 
mentioned, this, in all probability, would be the mental pic- 
ture recalled by nine out of every ten persons. 

On bright sunny days, with a heart brimming over with 
springtime, robin often perched on a swinging bough and 
allowed the joy of the season to gush from his throbbing 
throat. Even in the rain he sang! His world was so full of 
happiness that he must needs express it whether the sun 
shone or not. While his song is not so musical as that of 
many another bird, it charms us because it speaks of cheer — 
even in the midst of cheerlessness. This rain-song usually 
continued till the shower was over, when all the birds of the 
woods repeated the glad news, then hurried off to another 
feast ; for the rainy hours were even more fruitful of worms 
than those of mere nocturnal dampness. 

After the laying of the blue eggs came the weary days 
156 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

ROBIN INSPECTING YOUNG 



ROBIN LIFE 

of incubation, bringing with them a recompense in the glad 
joy of anticipation of the new young lives soon to fill the nest. 
Robin shared in the labor of keeping the eggs warm, as he 
did later in that of providing food for the young family. 

When the nest was full of young there was little time 
for him to devote to his music. His daylight hours, as well 
as his mate's, were spent in diligently providing for their 
family, whose days were a continuous repast. As they 
hopped about the lawn, looking and listening for worms, 
every withered blade of grass, every sound attenuated be- 
yond mortal hearing, was significant of that life in the 
underworld which alone could satisfy the gustatory longings 
of the babes in the nest. On returning from a foraging ex- 
pedition, our little robins always found their ravenous young 
with open bills ready to receive the fruit of their search. Two 
or three times his own weight in worms did each of these con- 
sume every day. No wonder the pin- feathers pushed out so 
rapidly all over the small bodies — and that these so soon 
burst into real feathers. 

When not plying their brood with food, the older pair 
were attending to their other wants. Infant bills must be 
cleaned and all superfluous matter removed from the nest. 
Bits of egg-shell were carried away, and occasional blades of 
grass, that were accidentally gleaned with the harvest of 
worms, were removed, keeping the nest in a state of perfect 
neatness and cleanliness. During the hours when the sun 
shone directly on the nest, the little ones were shielded from 
its burning rays by maternal wings, while the father alone 
provided food. Both parents were absolutely self-forgetful 
in their devotion. 

But new cares were awaiting them: the nestlings were 
already overflowing the mud cup on the outreaching bough. 

159 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Now that they were strong enough and sufficiently equipped 
with feathers to enter life in the great outside world, they 
were beginning to show the fear that would be their greatest 
protection when they reached the ground and had to take 
care of themselves. The trustful innocence of their baby- 
hood was gone, and the bravery of older robinhood had not 
yet come to take its place. But however much they might 
fear the dangers outside, the nest was no longer large enough 
to hold them. 

Fortunately, it was the two larger ones who were first 
crowded over the edge to the ground below. It was not such 
a fearsome thing, after all — this being on the ground, for 
their ever-watchful father was there to take them in charge 
and to lead them to a place of greater safety, while the mother 
devoted her energies to the babes still in the nest. Soon the 
hour struck for them to depart from the adobe home, and 
they, too, sought the ground. 

The days that followed were the most anxious and try- 
ing for the older members of the family. Not only did every 
mouthful of food have to be hunted and pursued in its ef- 
forts to escape, but the fledglings did also. This terrible 
fear that had lately come upon them prompted them to hide 
away in tall grasses or under leaves and bushes. The faint- 
est sound caused them to seek shelter, where their elders 
found them crouching in fright. 

After a few days the father took entire charge of them, 
while the mother prepared another nest of yesteryear, in an 
apple tree over the way, for a second brood. The little ones 
roosted on convenient boughs in the near neighborhood for 
a time, but after a while, when their wings were plumed for 
longer flights, they spent the night with their father and 
many others of his kind at a roost down near the river, while 

160 




Photograph by Edward Warren 

YOUNG ROBBINS ROOSTING 

The little ones roosted on convenient 
boughs in the near neighborhood for a time." 



ROBIN LIFE 

their days were devoted to wandering about over the old pas- 
tures and profiting by parental instruction in the different 
methods of discovering where cutworms crawl. He showed 
them also where grew the wild fruits and berries which are 
more to the taste of robins still in speckled livery. Besides, 
they were beginning to give more or less successful imitations 
of the father's song as he sang of hope to his brooding mate, 
but not until the years have brought them experience will 
they sing with his fervor. 

When the new brood come from the nest, the parent 
birds care for them jointly. The summer's song and care 
have left their voices weaker, but it has not affected their 
happiness. After a day devoted to nursery duties, as he sits 
on a higher limb than in the springtime, hear him calling to 
his faithful mate his message of love — and as he pauses, seem- 
ingly for her approval, at the end of his lay, her tender 
"sweet, sweet," called from a bough not far below, agrees 
fully with our own sentiments. 

It is difficult to imagine how any one could fail to cher- 
ish these interesting tenants of our groves. They should be 
protected on utilitarian as well as aesthetic grounds. Some 
one has most fitly called them the "guardian angels of our 
soil." The cutworms and other harmful forms of life which 
they destroy, if left alone would do more damage than 
one could easily estimate ; the little fruit they consume — never 
their staple food, but merely an occasional luxury — is noth- 
ing more than their rightful wage. Besides, cultivated fruits 
are left undisturbed when there are wild fruits conveniently 
near. 

As the summer wanes, the older birds cease to look for 
food on the ground and betake themselves to haunts where 
autumn berries, wild ivy, grape and deer berries are found. 

163 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

As we notice them growing more and more shy and begin- 
ning to haunt the treetops, we may know that their days 
among us are numbered. The subtle suggestion of autumn's 
crimson and gold, the curling leaves and falling nuts, awaken 
the migratory instinct. Soon, when the groves are seared 
by frosts, with the gay vesture of the youthful year dulled 
by a season of labor, they will be scarcely distinguishable 
from the wind-swept leaves as they are caught in the great 
southern drift; yet, on the eve of their departure, in voices 
threadbare but earnest, they will preach in the golden gray 
of the autumn twilight the same doctrine of gentleness and 
love that they preached in the green glory of the springtime 
— and among all their hearers, who fully understand the code, 
none are found who fail to follow the cryptic call. 



164 



The many-wintered crow that leads 
The clanging rookery home. 

Tennyson. 



165 



THE RAVEN OR CROW IN LITERATURE 

THE raven and his congener, the crow, are so confused 
in literature, as well as in the minds of the great 
mass of people who are unfamiliar with ornitholog- 
ical classification, that it is almost a necessity to here treat 
them as identical. The raven is a larger bird and not quite 
so numerous or widely distributed as the crow, but in gen- 
eral appearance and habits they are practically the same. 

If tradition is to be credited, we are more indebted to this 
bird of ancient family than to any other feathered creature, 
for he has played an important part in history — sacred and 
profane — in literature, and in art; and throughout all ages 
and nations he has rendered invaluable service. 

On the authority of the Koran we know that it was he 
who first taught man to bury his dead. When Cain knew 
not what disposition to make of the body of his slain brother, 
"God sent a raven, who killed another raven in his presence, 
and then dug a pit with his beak and claws, and buried him 
therein." And it was the raven whom Noah sent forth to 
learn whether the waters had abated- — one of the rare in- 
stances wherein he ever proved faithless to his trust — and it 
was he who gave sustenance to the hungry prophet, Elijah. 

In Norse mythology, Odin, the greatest of all the gods 
— the raven's god — had for his chief advisers two ravens, 
Hugin and Munin (Mind and Memory) , who were sent out 

167 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

by him each morning on news-gathering journeys, and who 
returned to him at nightfall to perch on his shoulders and 
whisper into his ears the intelligence of the day. When news 
of unusual importance was desired, Odin himself, in raven 
guise, went forth to seek it. And when the Norse armies 
went into battle they followed the raven standard — a banner 
under which William the Conqueror fought. "If the Danish 
arms were destined to defeat, the raven hung his head and 
dropped his wings; if victory was to attend them, he stood 
erect and soaring." 

Norse navigators, when setting sail, took with them a 
pair of ravens to be liberated and followed as guides. If 
these birds returned, it was known that land did not lie in the 
direction taken ; but if they did not, they were followed. The 
discoveries of both Iceland and Greenland are attributed to 
their leadership. 

To the Romans and Greeks, the raven was an embodied 
god and the chief bird of omen, whose effigy was borne on 
their banners, and whose auguries were followed with the 
greatest confidence; while to the German mind he was His 
Satanic Majesty .made manifest in feathers. 

Not only gods, but mortals also, are known to have as- 
sumed raven shape — if Don Quixote be an authority — for 
this doughty knight informs us that the great King Arthur 
passed into raven form, not through choice, but through 
witchcraft, and that as a raven he still lives and flies about 
over his erstwhile kingdom, waiting to be liberated ; and that 
for this reason no Englishman would ever be guilty of taking 
the life of one of these birds, for fear of becoming a regicide. 

In some parts of Germany these birds are believed to 
hold the souls of the damned, while in other European sec- 
tions wicked priests only are believed to be so reincarnated. 

168 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 

THE MANY-WINTERED CROW 

Old Munin has selected a place where he may 
ponder undisturbed over the occurances of the day." 



THE RAVEN OR CROW IN LITERATURE 

In Sweden the ravens croaking at night in the swamps are 
said to be the ghosts of murdered persons who have been 
denied Christian burial, and whom, on this account, Charon 
has refused ferriage across the river Styx. 

As a companion of saints this bird has had a wide ex- 
perience; every day for sixty years he brought bread to St. 
Paul, the Hermit, in the desert, and on the day preceding the 
saint's death he brought a double share, that there might be 
sufficient to supply the needs of St. Anthony, who was visiting 
him. St. Benedict's raven saved his life by bearing away 
the poisoned loaf sent to this saint by a jealous priest. After 
his torture and death at Saragossa, when the body of St. 
Vincent was thrown to the wild beasts, it was rescued by 
ravens and borne to his brothers at Valencia, where it re- 
posed in a tomb till the Christians of that place were expelled 
by the Moors. The remains of the saint were then carried 
away by the exiled Christians, who were driven ashore at a 
point since known as Cape St. Vincent, where they were 
again placed in a tomb, to be guarded evermore by the faith- 
ful ravens. And to St. Meinrad, St. Oswald, St. Francis, 
St. Cuthbert, St. Ida and to various other saints and martyrs, 
did these noble birds render substantial service. 

By some nations, the raven was regarded as the bearer 
of propitious news from the gods, and sacrosanct; to others 
he was the precursor of evil and an object of dread. With 
divining power, which enabled him for ages to tell the farmer 
of the coming of needed rain, the maiden of the coming of 
her lover, and the invalid of the coming of death, he was 
received with joy or sadness, according to the message he 
bore. 

The belief in his power of divination was so general 
that knowledge of the whereabouts of the lost has come to 

171 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

be known as "raven's knowledge." To the Romans he was 
able to reveal the means of restoring lost eyesight, even. 
In Germany he was able to tell not only where lost articles 
were, but could also make known to survivors where the 
souls of their lost friends were to be found. 

Faith in his prophetic power was common all over 
Europe, where he foretold illness and death, and not only 
could he foretell evil, but he could put forces in action to 
bring it about, even "shaking contagion from his ominous 
wing." 

In England he was looked upon with greater favor; 
the mere presence of the home of a raven in a treetop was 
there enough to insure the continuance in power of the 
family owning the estate. 

The power of the raven continued even after death ; his 
dried head and beak possessed talismanic power, while some 
parts of his body were important ingredients in every 
witch's brew. To the North American Indian his split skin 
drawn over the head of a medicine man gave him the power 
of prophecy. 

In Bohemia he was assigned the task usually performed 
by the stork in other lands, while in some parts of Germany 
witches were credited with riding upon his back instead of 
on the conventional broomstick, as in other regions. 

To the raven is attributed power not only over human 
affairs, but the power also of influencing the elements; in 
old Greece he brought the rains of summer ; in modern China 
crumbs are thrown to his counterpart, the crow, when he 
lights on the mast of a ship, that he may be induced to in- 
fluence the powers of the air to bring favorable winds. 

In later times the raven has added interest to many a 
stoiy. Many of the world's best writers have accorded him 

172 



THE RAVEN OR CROW IN LITERATURE 

important roles in their writings — Shakespeare, Milton, 
Spencer, Marlowe, Southey, Scott, Tennyson, Dickens, Poe, 
Longfellow, and an infinity of others. The wealth of raven 
literature bears indubitable testimony to the interest people 
of all times and all localities have felt in this remarkable 
bird — an interest certain to increase with acquaintance. 



178 



CROW LIFE 

TO one with mind open to rural charm, this picturesque 
bird, solemnly stalking about the fields, or majes- 
tically flapping his way to the treetops, is as much 
a part of the landscape as the fields themselves, or the trees 
upon their borders ; and possesses an interest different from 
that of any other creature of the feathered race. Though he 
no longer pursues the craft of the augur, his superior intelli- 
gence, great dignity and general air of mystery inspire 
confidence in his abilities in that line. 

What powers were his in the old days! Foolish maidens 
and ignorant sailors might put their faith in the divining 
powers of the flighty wren ; others might consult the swallow 
and the kingfisher; but it was to the "many-wintered crow" 
that kings and the great ones of earth applied for advice, 
and it was he who never failed them. According to Pliny, 
he was the only bird capable of realizing the meaning of his 
portents. 

In the early morning light the worthy successors of the 
ancient Hugin and Munin go forth to-day in quest of news 
of interest to their clan, just as those historic messengers 
did in the days when the mighty Norse gods awaited their 
return, that they might act on the intelligence gathered by 
them during the daylight hours; and when slanting beams 
call forth the vesper songs of more tuneful birds, they return, 

174 



CROW LIFE 

followed by long lines of other crows, to their usual haunts 
on the borders of the marshes. Singly or in long lines, never 
in loose flocks like blackbirds, they arrive from all directions, 
till what must be the whole tribe is gathered together — a 
united family — for the night's repose. 

As there in the treetops in the early evening, in con- 
vention assembled, they discuss important affairs, who can 
doubt that certain ones of their number are recognized as 
leaders, and that they have some form of government among 
themselves? One after another delivers himself of a 
harangue, then the whole assemblage joins in noisy applause 
— or is it disapproval? At other times sociability seems to be 
the sole object of the gathering. 

As one old crow, more meditative than the rest, at the 
close of the conclave always betakes himself to the same 
perch, the lonely, upthrust shaft of a lightning-shattered tree 
on the hillside, we decide that here is old Munin, who has 
selected this perch as one favorable to meditation — a place 
where he may ponder undisturbed over the occurrences of 
the day. 

Others among the group have habits just as fixed and 
noticeable. Even though approaching his perch from the 
opposite direction, one will be seen to circle and draw near 
it from the accustomed side; some of the more decided ones 
will invariably remain just where they alight; others will 
turn around and arrange themselves on their perches indefi- 
nitely. In the fields it will be noticed that some are socially 
inclined and forage in groups, while others, either from per- 
sonal choice or that of their neighbors, are more solitary. 
Like members of the human family, each has his own indi- 
vidual characteristics. 

While the chief charm of the crow is his intelligence, 

175 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

his dignity also claims our attention. Who ever saw one 
of his tribe do anything foolish or unbecoming to the funeral 
director he has ever been since the birth of time, and that he 
must ever be while time endures? The ancients believed him 
to be able to scent a funeral several days before death oc- 
curred, so sensitive was he to mortuary influences, and there 
is little doubt he still possesses the power to discern approach- 
ing death in many creatures smaller than himself — and to 
whom he expects to extend the right of sepulchre. Inside 
and out he is clothed in deepest black; even his tongue and 
the inside of his mouth are in mourning. Seeming to think 
it incumbent on him to live up to his funereal garb and occu- 
pation, faithful to his trust, with clerical solemnity he goes 
about his everyday duties. 

Gazing on them from his watch-tower in the treetops, 
what does this grave creature think of the gayer birds that 
dwell in the meadows and groves round about? What thinks 
he of the clownish bobolink, in motley nuptial livery, pouring 
out his silly soul in gurgling, rollicking song in his efforts to 
please a possible mate, then quarreling with both her and 
his rivals, who, also, have donned cap and bells to win her 
favor? What of the unpretentious home — a mere hollow in 
the ground — where the care-free pair go to housekeeping? 
What of the redwings building their nests among the reeds in 
the midst of the marsh — so low as almost to touch the water? 
Of the fitful wren, incessantly singing of love to his mate, 
yet who fails to assist her in nest-building, and who proves 
but an indifferent provider for his young family? Of the 
lonely Phoebe, calling in plaintive, mysterious tones to a 
mate unresponsive to his sorrowful beseechings? Of the 
robin, who makes of the grove a sanctuary? He doubtless 
has his opinions concerning every one of them, for he views 

176 



CROW LIFE 

them all with interest. Hearing all the other birds singing 
their love and seeing them winning favor with their brilliant 
colors, does he envy them? 

On the theory of compensation, his sterling qualities 
render accomplishments and decorative raiment unnecessary. 
With no song in which to tell his story, and no garments gay 
to captivate the eye, the crow must needs live his love — and 
he does — to the end. Seriously he wins the mate to whom he 
remains true forever. To him the marital bond is not the 
mere tie of a season, but one that holds through life. He as- 
sists the dusky bride of his choice in establishing a com- 
modious home in the most commanding situations available 
— the top of the tallest tree in the edge of the wood, and 
which may have been planted by one of his ancestors. He 
assists her in giving warmth to their eggs in the nest. He 
carries food to her while she broods over them. He braves 
every danger in protecting both her and them against preda- 
tory hawks and owls and frolicking squirrels, to whom he is 
known as the "warrior crow." With tenderest solicitude, he 
relieves his mate as far as he can in ministering to their nest- 
lings. 

And what of the young crows in the nest? When their 
elders are away on commissary tours, the little ones, bewail- 
ing the absence of parents almost constantly, are always 
found on the return in attitudes of expectancy. To them the 
approach of older crows, even though it be from the left, is 
never ominous of anything but good. And when after many 
excursions baby appetites have been satisfied, in their lofty 
cradles in the treetops, the infant crows are rocked by the 
breezes, and though the tuneless throats of the parents yield 
no songs they are not without music, for soft, aaolian lullabies 
soothe them to sleep. 

177 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

The nursery plant is a comfortable one, with gymnasium 
equipment of sticks and weed-stems, on which the young 
claws are exercised till strong enough to hold to the branches 
surrounding the nest when the first unsteady steps are taken 
outside. Living so high above the ground, they do not leave 
the nest permanently so early as most other birds. No acci- 
dental tumbling into the great outside world for them — but 
occasionally casualties occur to decrease the family. Should 
one fall from the nest he would in all probability be regarded 
as lost. As a rule, the dusky little creatures make many 
trips out among the higher branches and return again to the 
nest for rest and refreshment before coming down to earth. 
On reaching the ground they are initiated by the parents into 
the ways of older crows. Indeed, the older birds devote the 
entire summer to the education of their offspring, who 
willingly remain under their provident care. 

While the young are in the nest they are fed in a meas- 
ure from the throats of the older birds, spiders, beetles, in- 
sects of various kinds, eggs, and the young of various birds 
and animals. Corn is given to them sparingly at first, but its 
consumptioTi increases with the age of the bird. Sprouting 
grain is considered an especial dainty for immature crows. 

During the plowing season the crow devotes his time 
to following the furrow and clearing the fields of the pesti- 
lential hosts that otherwise would ravish the harvest. To 
one viewing him sympathetically he seems as necessary to 
agricultural prosperity as the farmer himself. To be sure, 
lie claims a part of the fruit of the field as his wage, but so 
does the farmer, who in his efforts to defeat the claims of 
the bird often dangles the body of a deceased relative from a 
hedge nearby in plain view of the dark-feathered gleaner. 
But after viewing the remains, our friend the crow, who in 

178 




Photograph by A. Hyatt Verrill 



YOUNG CROWS 



On their return they always find their 
young in attitudes of expectancy." 



CROW LIFE 

the pursuit of his calling has grown so accustomed to death 
in all its forms as to take no note of it, or with a courage 
born of hunger, carries out his original intention. 

When a murderous gunner watches for these birds in 
the field of newly planted grain, they usually fail to appear 
till after his departure, when again they seek the old foraging 
grounds, but, with a cunning developed by persecution, dis- 
appear again on his return. Were his enemies to succeed 
in banishing him from their fields a retributive justice would 
undoubtedly permit the harvest to suffer. It is not through 
self-interest, however, that the agriculturist will learn to pro- 
tect him, but through the stronger force of sentiment. 

On hearing farmers talk, one would* think that the diet 
of the crow is entirely granivorous, while no bird has a more 
adaptable appetite; everything eatable is perfectly accept- 
able—harmful grubs, beetles, worms, young rats, mice, 
snakes and moles, as well as mollusks, acorns, nuts, wild 
fruits and berries are among his staple articles of diet. And, 
though it is no longer believed that "he shakes contagion 
from his ominous wing," he occasions a lamentable amount 
of infant mortality among rabbits and squirrels, and even 
among weak-limbed lambs, depriving them of health, 
strength and happiness — but not through magic. These last 
he attacks in the eye as the most vulnerable point. In the 
old days he is reputed to have met with great success as an 
oculist; in these his patients never recover. 

In winter, when cereal stores and acorns which supply 
the season's want lie buried in snow, and when such animals 
as in youth were ready prey have grown to a more formidable 
majority, crows frequently suffer and perish from hunger, 
and when snows lie long on the ground many of them are 
found dead beneath their roosting places. 

181 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

The voice of the crow when heard distinctly has in it 
something of the winter's harshness and seems to harmonize 
best with winter sounds — creaking boughs and shrieking 
winds — but when modulated by distance it is .not unmusical. 
In the twilight, when calling to his belated brethren across 
the marshes, his uncanny call might well be taken for the 
cry of a lost soul craving Christian burial. Yet this might 
depend on one's mood. To each he seems to speak a differ- 
ent language. To St. Athanasius he said: "Cras, eras!" 
(To-morrow, to-morrow) ; to the sympathetic Tennyson he 
always called, in tenderest accents, the name "Maud." 

Though this bird is said to have no tongue for express- 
ing the happier emotions, the voice of the mother crow when 
soothing her nestlings, with gurgling notes of endearment, is 
tender as the robin's; and the head of the family, though 
croaking savagely when his mate is molested, and though 
able to send an exultant "caw" after a retreating enemy, 
never lowers himself by scolding»as the jay does. 

In captivity, this bird is often taught to articulate dis- 
tinctly, when he is as garrulous as in the wood. Occasion- 
ally he even utters sounds akin to laughter — or what might 
be considered laughter in one less grave. A crow that had 
been taken from the nest and reared in a Virginia home 
learned to recognize and call by name the different members 
of the family, whom he followed about the house and grounds, 
talking incessantly, and making no attempt to return to his 
own kind and to a wild life. 

While an inveterate collector of all small articles for 
which he could have no possible use, shiny things like coins, 
silver thimbles, beads and similar articles had an especial 
attraction for him. Some of these he hid in out-of-the-way 
places as other crows hide superfluous food for future use, 

182 



CROW LIFE 

and some he planted, stamping them into the ground as his 
uncivilized brethren of other years planted acorns to be eaten 
on leaner days, and many of which were forgotten, to grow 
into great oaks to be used as nesting sites by posterity. 
Having won immunity from labor as a bread-winner, and 
no longer having to cull his fare from the fields, he usually 
dined with the barnyard fowls, with whom he had many dis- 
agreements. But, as if to atone for his crimes, when the 
garden was being spaded he followed his master and dili- 
gently cleared the ground of larvae. 

Whatever his faults may be — and they are many — to 
any one taking the trouble to study the crow, either in cap- 
tivity or in his native environment, he will prove the most 
interesting example of his race, an agreeable companion, 
an ideal home-maker, a thrifty being, a liberal provider, an 
able defender of his family, a destroyer of harmful insect and 
animal life, a burier of the dead, a creature of dignity, a keen 
observer, and the intellectual marvel of the bird world. 



183 



I do not love thee less for what is done, 
And cannot be undone. Thy very weakness 
Hath brought thee nearer to me, and henceforth 
My love will have a sense of pity in it. 

Longfellow — Masque of Pandora. 



185 



ORIGIN OF THE WOODPECKER 

IN the days when our Lord walked upon the earth with 
the good Saint Peter, they came to a hut where an old 
wife sat baking. Tired from the long walk and from 
fasting, they begged of old Gertrude a bannock to stay their 
hunger. 

The tiny piece of dough which she decided should be 
their cake, though rolled to thinness, grew so large on the 
griddle that she refused to part with it. Still a tinier bit she 
took, but it, too, grew as the first had done — too large to be 
given as alms. The third and last time a piece so small it 
could scarcely be seen was taken, but the bannock was again 
too large — and again she refused to part with it. 

As the wayfarers departed in hunger and thirst from 
her door, she, through her selfishness, began to grow small 
In punishment for her deed, so small that a human habita- 
tion was no longer suitable for her. Up through the chim- 
ney she flew, as a woodpecker, .blackening her back on the 
sooty walls. The white apron she wore and the scarlet mutch 
on her head remained just as they were. 

As a further punishment, she was compelled to seek her 
food in most difficult places. If she could not find it in the 
trees between bark and bole, she must dig for it in the hard, 
dry wood. And she was allowed no drink save the raindrops. 

187 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

In scarlet hood and soot-stained gown she is seen to-day 
laboriously digging her tiny home in the solid wood, or flying 
about among the trees hiding the food she will not eat, or 
hacking and tapping at the bark for food, and whistling for 
the rain to come, for she is ever ahunger and ever athirst, and 
craving for a drop to cool her tongue. 

— Known in Norse mythology as the "Gertrude Story" 



188 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

FLICKER BEARING FOOD TO HIS YOUNG 



WOODPECKER LIFE 

ON the thirteenth of July a red-mutched descendant of 
the unfortunate Gertrude knocked on the stricken 
bough of a lofty elm to crave of the Dryad within 
hospitality for a season. Yes, her wish would be granted, 
but only on condition that she would dig out a shelter for 
herself there in the hard, dry wood, in fulfilment of the 
ancient curse. 

What had gone wrong in the woodpecker family that 
she was in need of shelter this late in the year? Earlier in the 
summer she and her mate had burrowed out a comfortable 
home in a great oak tree not two hundred yards away. Then 
they were on the best of terms and had relieved each other 
at the task of digging out their dwelling place. Twenty or 
twenty-five minutes at a time was thought long enough for 
either of them to devote to so laborious a task in the spring- 
time; then the other spent an equal time at the work, while 
the one off duty hurried away to partake of refreshments or 
to seek rest in change of occupation. 

Then there seemed to be some joy in their lives, for when 
they had occasionally found time for recreation, they had 
chased each other around the tree trunks and given utterance 
to their enjoyment of the game in many a peal of cackling 
laughter. Near the base of a tree the game began, and, 
spirally, round and round its trunk, they pursued each other, 
the one in the lead every now and then casting a challenging 

191 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

look behind, then hurrying upward faster than before. Their 
playtimes were brief, however, for the unfinished burrow was 
calling. 

When this was completed and later a half dozen or more 
eggs were laid, though madam spent most of her time in dis- 
pensing warmth to them, her mate also did his share. To- 
gether they had devoted their energies to providing for the 
little ones that pecked their way out of the round, white eggs. 
Many long journeys were they compelled to take and many 
were the hours spent in search of suitable food for their hun- 
gry offspring ; but on their return, their throats were always 
full to the brim with the nourishment which they pumped 
into infant throats as, hanging head downward over them, 
they clung with their claws to the entrance of their home. 
And when after a time the chicks were old enough to scramble 
about on the trunk of the tree outside their home, a wheezy 
call from one of them was enough to bring one or both of the 
parents, with throat distended with the best the wood afford- 
ed, to minister to their wants. Together they had driven 
away the over-solicitous squirrels and meddlesome sparrows 
who came to visit them. Together they had guided their 
asthmatic young family about the wood, teaching them by 
example, if not by precept, where food was to be found, and 
how to meet the dangers they were likely to encounter at any 
moment. 

The accidents of nature had depleted the brood, till now 
but two of them were left. A ball of baby feathers in the 
home of an owl living in the wood told the story of the pass- 
ing of one of them; the gladness which attended the home- 
coming of a foraging mother squirrel marked the taking off 
of another; so they had gone, till only these two remained, 
wheezy and exacting. 

192 



WOODPECKER LIFE 

Of late the care of them had fallen mainly on the father, 
who picked up a living for them as best he could. At times 
he seemed to try to get away from them — a futile effort, for 
when they did not follow his undulating flight in their awk- 
ward up-and-down fashion, they went in search of him if he 
was gone a few minutes over time. 

Here on the thirteenth of July was the mother seeking 
shelter away from her former home. Had there been a fami- 
ly disagreement ? Was the home-nest no longer large enough 
for the parent birds and their now almost grown-up family? 
Was she planning for a new brood? Surely not! It would 
be impossible to rear in a single season two broods requiring 
so much care. 

Whatever her purpose, here she was, drawing her plans 
on the under side of the dry old bough. Soon she began to 
peck out an entrance, and it was not long before the chips 
were flying in every direction. More than an hour she 
worked, then flew to the dead top of a tree across the way, 
where she sat for a brief time, resting and sunning herself. 
Twice she left her perch to dart out after passing insects, then 
returned to her labor. Occasionally she swung around to the 
top side of the dead branch, and tore off bits of bark, either 
for the purpose of seeing if the hole was going clear through 
or for securing the insect fare lurking under it. This part of 
the work continued at intervals, till the bark was removed 
from all the excavated portion of the bough. All day, until 
about five o'clock, she spent at her task with but little rest, 
then there was a long visit to the rest perch in the neighbor- 
ing treetop. 

The early morning hours were probably devoted to com- 
missary tours, for it was almost eight o'clock when she ap- 
peared on the scene of her labors and again began to wield 

193 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

the pick. About ten o'clock her spouse appeared and ar- 
ranged himself comfortably on the same limb about a foot 
away from the hole she was digging, but not by so much as 
a single stroke did he assist her. Soon a wheezy, whistling 
cry called him to duties as insistent as home building, and 
he departed. 

After watching the progress of woodpecker affairs for 
some time, a dweller in the house under the tree decided to 
lend a hand. A worm-eaten hitching-post stood near, on 
which was placed pieces of bread for the hungry little wielder 
of the pick. This not only satisfied her wants, but served also 
to bring her mate and offspring near occasionally. At first 
the young members of the family refused to pick up this 
food set before them, but, instead, clung to a neighboring tree 
and called vociferously for help. Then the father took the 
bits of bread and pushed them far down into the screaming 
throats. The young Romulus must have possessed wonder- 
ful powers of endurance if the woodpeckers of old ministered 
to him as vigorously in response to his infantile wails as the 
woodpeckers of to-dajr respond to the screaming demands 
of their own offspring. How gentle the wolf must have 
seemed in comparison! 

Several times the young woodpeckers followed the 
father to the limb in which the mother was chiseling a home. 
Together they watched her work, but during the first three 
days seemed to take no interest whatever in the hole she was 
making. Then the father went in and examined the open- 
ing, but flew away without giving any real aid. And all 
through the work his assistance seemed to be limited to in- 
spection. 

In her digging, the mother woodpecker clung with her 
claws to the opening of the burrow, and, head downward, 

194 




Photograph by Francis H. Herrick 

FLICKER FEEDING HIS YOUNG 

(HIS HABITS ARE SIMILAR TO THE RED-HEADS) 

" The father pushed bits of bread 
far down into the screaming throats." 



WOODPECKER LIFE 

pecked rapidly. Sometimes she would throw out chips — 
which were little more than coarse sawdust — after three or 
four blows; again, she worked for a minute or two, then 
threw out several billfuls at a time. In throwing out these 
chips she slipped backward and forward over the lower, edge 
of the opening, after the manner of that old-fashioned toy 
called a "supple jack." First she threw her chips to one 
side, then to the other, till the ground beneath the burrow 
for a space thirty feet in circumference was generously 
sprinkled with them. 

Though several persons were watching her, and though 
squirrels were springing about among the branches, she was 
not disturbed, but went steadily on with her task. While she 
was away on short vacations, the wren, dwelling in the porch 
roof beneath, frequently investigated the hole she was dig- 
ging — sparrows examined it, and squirrels looked into it, but 
it was very noticeable that they all had an eye on her return. 
Once in her absence one of her own young woodpeckers 
scrambled to the edge of the hole and peeped in for a moment, 
then scuttled back again to the place where the dead branch 
joined the trunk of the tree, and in his usual noisy manner 
demanded food. 

It was near the end of the third day's labor that the 
woodpecker was first seen "trying on" her new home. Then 
she went into it, and, nestling there, with head up for the 
first time, looked out of the window. Evidently the pocket 
was neither deep enough nor wide enough, for after this she 
worked on both bottom and sides of it, scattering chips as 
before. The work periods were shorter now and the rests 
more frequent, showing that her strength was failing. On 
the afternoon of the fifth day, when the burrow was finished, 
completely exhausted, she made her way to the roof of the 

197 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

house, where, with wings spread, she lay for more than an 
hour. Seemingly too tired to reach her usual resting place 
in the treetop across the way, she lay there gathering strength 
for the longer flight. 

Though the sexes are alike in the redhead family, it was 
not difficult to distinguish them in this case, for the feathers 
about the head and neck of the mother were much more worn 
than those of her less industrious mate. Yet it may be an 
injustice to him to accuse him of indolence, for was he not 
purveying to their younglings? — a task which may have 
taxed his energies to the limit. Perhaps, after all, it was 
only a case of division of labor. 

After the completion of the burrow, though the wood- 
pecker was anxiously watched for, for several days, she was 
not seen near it again, though the usual bits of bread placed 
on the hitch in g-post brought her to its neighborhood. 

The experiment was tried of putting some of the crusts 
on top of the post and stuffing others tightly into the large 
worm-holes. The latter were invariably taken first. Though 
the young birds came there regularly to be fed, more than a 
week passed before they made the slightest effort to help 
themselves. They would cling to the sides of the post and, 
with upward-pointing, open bills, whistle asthmatically for 
the food, which the parents were compelled to place in their 
throats. Whether it was wilfulness or inability that caused 
them to act as they did, it was impossible to determine. 

The whistling of the young birds, which was once be- 
lieved to predict rain, or to be a demand for it from a thirsty 
throat, always precedes or accompanies the taking of food. 
It is doubtless a little more frequent before showers, for at 
such times the older birds are able to collect more beetles and 

198 



WOODPECKER LIFE 

other insects that come out then from their shelters into the 
open. 

The old belief that woodpeckers are ever athirst because 
of their inability to drink any save the rain that falls into 
their open throats or the drops that fall from the leaves, may 
have some foundation. In the case of this family, though a 
basin of water was always conveniently near, and though 
sparrows, robins, blue jays and wrens constantly patronized 
it, no woodpecker was ever seen to refresh himself from it — 
many as there were of them in the vicinity. 

When more bread than the four birds could consume was 
placed in the post, the older ones carried a part of it away — 
usually the larger pieces on top — for future use, or pounded 
it tightly into worm-holes in the same post, but never into 
the ones in which they found it. 

Several weeks after the burrow was finished, one even- 
ing just about sunset, a red head was seen peeping from the 
window in the treetop ; then it was drawn back, and again it 
appeared and was withdrawn, to be seen no more during the 
evening. It was a dormitory, then, that you hollowed out 
for yourself, was it, my lady? 

One morning, near the close of August, it was noticed 
that the entrance to the lodging was distinctly larger, and 
that a patch of daylight showed through from the other side. 
Whether for some reason the bird herself had enlarged the 
opening before departing for the South, or whether this 
had been done by mischievous squirrels on murder bent, is 
not known ; but certain it is that the red-mutched laborer was 
gone. Others of her kind lingered in the grove for a week or 
more, and though food was placed on the accustomed post, 
neither she nor any of her immediate family appeared to 
claim it. 

199 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

When he is gone, the most accomplished songsters 
are not missed more than the red-headed woodpecker, whose 
broad patches of clear color enliven the wood. Though he 
may no longer assist in the growth of the forest by bringing 
refreshing showers, as he is said to have done in the long- 
ago time, he certainly is doing much in his own way to pre- 
serve them. Well might the ancients have made a god of him. 
He still possesses one of the gifts which won that honor for 
him — the power of producing thunder — and in a way that 
mortals can understand. Hear it rumbling among the dead 
treetops, as the bird drums rapidly on the dry wood and sets 
it to vibrating, then quickly lays his hollow bill against it 
to add resonance to the peal. Vulcan himself could not have 
felt greater satisfaction than he, as he stops to listen, in con- 
scious pride over his accomplishment. 

Whether he is a god made manifest in feathers, or merely 
an old woman under a curse, expiating the crime of selfish- 
ness in picking up a living where there seems to be no life, 
and in sharing this scant fare with the hungry, as we see this 
bird with breast flattened and shoulders bent by hard work, 
while our sympathies are awakened, we bless the day that 
gave to the world this tireless little laborer of the wood. 



200 



BIRD LORE 



OWL LORE 



A STORY similar to the Gertrude story of the wood- 
pecker is told of a baker's daughter refusing a cake 
to our Lord when ahungered, and who was for her 
selfishness transformed into an owl. 



From her habit of moving her head from side to side, 
another legend represents her as an old weaver, silently weav- 
ing her silver web of the moonbeams. 



To the Etruscans the owl was a psychopompos, or soul- 
guide — Ceres turned a son of Styx into an owl because he 
blabbed the secret of Persephone eating pomegranate seeds 
in the realm of Hades. 



According to Ovid, in old Rome it was believed that 
witches could transform themselves into screech owls and 
return to human form at pleasure. In owl form they throt- 
tled or sucked the blood of babes asleep in their cradles, as 
cats suck their breath. 

203 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

In an English nursery rhyme, the owl sings : 

Once I was a monarch's daughter, 

And sat on a lady's knee, 
But am now a mighty rover, 

Banished to the ivy tree. 

Crying, "Hoo hoo, hoo hoo, hoo hoo, 
Hoo ! hoo ! hoo ! my feet are cold ! 

Pity me, for here you see me, 
Persecuted, poor and old!" 

In another north-country nursery song she sings : 

"Oh! o o o o o 
I once was a king's daughter, 

And sat on my father's knee ; 
But now I'm a poor hoolet, 

And hide in a hollow tree." 

This owl princess is supposed to be none other than 
Pharaoh's daughter. 

A Breton legend has it that once upon a time each of 
all the birds gave a feather to the wren, who had lost her own 
in trying to secure fire from heaven. The owl alone refused 
this charity, saying: "I will not give up a single feather; 
the winter is coming on, and I fear the cold." "Very well," 
replied the king; "from this day on thoushalt be the most 
wretched of birds, always shivering with cold. Thou shalt 
never leave thy abode but by night, and if thou shouldst show 
thyself in the daytime other birds shall pursue and persecute 
thee." From that very time the owl has never ceased to cry 
"hou, hou!" as if perishing with the cold. 

204 



OWL LORE 

The owl's shriek causes an infant's death. — Arab. 

"The owl, for all his feathers, was acold." — Keats. 

The owl's cry at night betokens a change of weather. 

In China the owl is known as the "bird which calls for 
the soul." 

In England it was once a common belief that if an owl 
appeared at a birth it foreboded ill-luck to the infant. 

In the north, the home of the white owl, she is believed 
to possess prophetic power superior to that of any other 
bird. 

A Hebrides belief is that if an owl scream three times 
over your home at night, a death will surely follow unless 
some one calls out: "Pepper and salt for your mammy!" 

In his Natural History, Pliny the Elder says of the 
owl: "It is a portent of the night; and makes its presence 
known by no kind of song, but rather by sobs and moans. 
Accordingly, whenever it shows itself in cities, or at all by 
daylight, it prognosticates dire misfortune." Pliny, quoting 
another writer,- says: "The owl, unlike most other birds, 
issues from the egg back foremost; inasmuch as one side of 
the egg is weighed down by the great size of its head, so the 
lighter end containing the back is presented to the fostering 
warmth of the mother." 

205 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

To kill an owl makes one's cows give bloody milk. 

In Syria, the owl is called the "mother of ruins"; in 
Ireland, "the old woman of the night." 

In Belgium, scrambled owl's eggs are deemed, by the 
superstitious, a potent cure for drunkenness. 

In Greece, the owl was sacred to Athena because of the 
power of seeing in the night, which both possessed. 

In some European countries dead owls were once nailed 
to rafters or on doors to avert any evil which their living pres- 
ence might have brought. 

The blacks of Australia believe that when an owl is 
killed, a woman's death is sure to follow, as a man's death 
must follow the killing of a bat. 

Parts of owls were considered particularly efficacious 
in witches' potions. Medea, the witches in Macbeth, and 
many others used them in their brews. 

It is an Indian superstition that if you fix your eyes 
on an owl and walk round and round him, he will follow you 
with his eyes till his head is twisted from his body. 

The heart of a white owl laid on the breast over the 
heart of a sleeping woman was believed to have the power 
of causing her to divulge her secrets ; and the heart of a white 
owl, carried into battle, possessed the talismanic power of 
inspiring courage, averting danger and insuring success. 



WREN LORE 

BOTH Pliny and Aristotle allude to the story; of the 
rivalry between the eagle and the wren. The same 
story, with variations, is told by the North American 
Indians, and it is also common in Germany, France, Scot- 
land and Norway. 

In early English tradition the wren has the credit of 
being the robin's wife ; and in Icelandic, of being the mouse's 
brother. 

Though the wren to-day seems the most domestic of 
birds, in history she is given a bad reputation, being identi- 
fied with sorcery, witchcraft, and immorality. In Norse 
mythology she is a malignant fairy, whose office is to lead 
youths astray. Until recently, on the Isle of Man, the mas- 
culine inhabitants turned out to hunt the wren on Christmas 
Day, believing her to have been once a sort of Lorelei, who, 
by her songs and charms, had lured young men into the sea, 
where the waves swept them away to death, and who had 
assumed this tiny, feathered form when pursued by the en- 
raged people. For some reason it was believed that this 
malignant Lorelei wren would always go about working her 
wicked charms on Christmas Day, till she should perish by 
the hand of man. For this reason men hunted the wren and 

207 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

kept the feathers of all such birds as were killed on this day 
to use as amulets against shipwreck. 

Wren hunts were also common in Ireland, where many 
wren-hunt songs were sung. Each hunter carried two sticks, 
one with which to beat the hedges, and one to throw at the 
bird. When in the hunt a wren was killed, it was placed 
on a ribbon-decked ivy or holly bough, or suspended in two 
hoops crossed at right angles and decked with evergreens 
and ribbons, and borne about triumphantly at the head of a 
procession. 

One of these songs is given in Crofton Croker's "Re- 
searches," as follows: 



IRISH WREN-HUNT SONG 

"The wren, the wren, the king of all birds, 
Saint Stephen's Day was caught in the furze; 
Although he is little, his family's great — 
I pray you, good landlady, give us a treat. 

"My box it would speak, if it had but a tongue, 
And two or three shillings would do it no wrong ; 
Sing holly, sing ivy — sing ivy, sing holly, 
A drop just to drink, it would drown melancholy. 

"And if you draw it of the best, 
I hope your soul in heaven may rest ; 
But if you draw it of the small, 
It won't agree with the wren boys at all." 

208 



WREN LORE 

The following wren song, with verses sometimes varied 
to suit the singer, is probably the most common: 

" 'Let us go to the wood !' said Richard to Robin. 
'Let us go to the wood!' said Robin to Bobbin. 
'Let us go to the wood!' said John, all alone. 
'Let us go to the wood!' said every one. 

'What shall we do there?' said Richard to Robin, etc. 
'We will hunt the wren,' said Richard to Robin, etc. 
'Where is he? Where is he?' said Richard to Robin, etc. 
'In yonder green bush,' said Richard to Robin, etc. 
'How can we get him down?' said Richard to Robin, etc. 



'He's eaten! He's eaten!' said Richard to Robin, etc." 



There are thirty-two verses of a similar song, as given by 
Mr. Swainson in "Folk Lore of British Birds." Other wren 
songs are equally full of repetition. 

In some districts the wren hunt took place on St. 
Stephen's Day, because at the time St. Stephen was being 
brought to execution and was about to escape from his sleep- 
ing jailors, a wren flew on the face of one of them and woke 
him. 

Mr. Swainson tells us that a proclamation was issued 
by Richard Dowden, Mayor of Cork in 1845, prohibiting 
the wren hunt in the interest of "prevention of cruelty to 
animals," but that the custom is still observed in some parts 
of Connaught. 

209 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

A somewhat similar custom of wren-hunting followed 
by conviviality prevails in France, where the youth who kills 
the bird is dubbed king. 

To-day many Manxmen will not put to sea without a 
dead wren to ward off storms and disasters, because once 
upon a time a queer sort of a something called a Jes spirit, 
which hunted herring and brought on storms, whisked herself 
into a wren, when pursued, and flew away. So it is believed 
that when a dead wren is aboard, this Jes spirit is dead to 
that part of the sea lying around about. 

It is a Gaelic belief that no house that the wren frequents 
ever dies out. 

"He that hurts a robin or a wren, 
Will never prosper, sea nor land." 

— Yorkshire Couplet. 

A Breton Legend: — The wren, being able to fly higher 
than any other bird, secured the coveted fire from heaven and 
started on her earthward journey, but in her descent her 
wings began to burn, compelling her to intrust her precious 
burden to the robin, whose feathers also burst into flames, as 
his breast still shows. The lark, coming to the rescue, 
brought the prize in safety to mankind on earth. 

In some parts of Brittany it is said that the wren 
brought the fire from the lower regions, and that her feathers 
were scorched as she passed through the keyhole. 

On this account the wren, together with the robin, the 
lark and the swallow, as fire-bringers, are regarded as sacred, 
and the robbing of their nests as acts of horror. In some of 

210 



WREN LORE 

the French provinces such crimes are believed to be punished 
by the destruction of the offender's house by lightning. An- 
other superstition is that the fingers of the offending hand 
will shrivel away and drop off. 

Like the robin and the raven, the wren was often the 
companion of saints. 



21T 



EAGLE LORE 

ACCORDING to some old stories, a dip in the ocean 
wave renews the youth of the eagle; according to 
others, before the dip, the bird spreads his feathers 
to the sun, which consumes them; then plunging into the 
purifying and vivifying water, he arises in youth. 

The young eagle was said to begin life with a fire test. 

In some parts of Ireland it is believed that Adam and 
Eve still exist as eagles. 

In religious history the eagle figures as the companion 
of saints because, according to Saint Jerome, "he ascends 
to the very throne of God." 

It was once a matter of common belief that the young 
eagle who could not look the sun in the eye unflinchingly was 
slain by its parents as unfit for an eagle's career. 

Among the Dakotah Indians there is a deluge legend to 
the effect that when the flood came, all the Indians, hoping 
to escape, fled to a hilltop, but were finally overwhelmed — 
all but one woman, who was borne away by a great eagle, 
her father swooping down, and carried to a high mountain. 
She afterward became the mother of twins, who perpetuated 
the race. 

212 



EAGLE LORE 

To the Indian, the eagle was the keeper of fires, sun, 
moon and stars. 

The eagle is used as a symbol of power by the United 
States, Austria and Russia. 

In olden times the eagle was the symbol of war, around 
which the armies of Rome rallied. 

In early England it was believed that eagle's feathers 
would consume any other feathers placed with them. 

The North American Indian still decorates his war 
bonnet with eagle's feathers, each feather being the symbol 
of a great deed done. 

In Finnish literature the eagle brings fire from heaven 
to reward Vaino for leaving the birch tree standing as a 
perch and nesting place for birds. 

The North American Indian believes that the sky is in- 
habited by a great eagle, who causes thunder to roll and 
snow and hail to fall by the shaking of his mighty feathers. 

In Greek mythology the eagle is emblematic of the de- 
structive power of Zeus. 

Bird of Pan in early Greek mythology. 

The eagle was one of the guardians of Walhalla, the 
banquet-hall of the Norse gods. 



213 



SWALLOW LORE 

SWALLOWS in antiquity were deemed lucky on land 
but unlucky at sea. Cleopatra abandoned a voyage on 
seeing one of these birds on the masthead of her ship. 

The killing of a swallow makes the cows give bloody 
milk. 

Swallows building under the eaves bring good luck to 
a house. 

To kill a swallow brings misfortune, in Germany, and 
there no one dares to destroy her nest. 

Possessing weather intelligence, swallows tell us, when 
they fly high, that the day will be clear; when low, that it 
will be cloudy or stormy. 

In Norway it is said that when the Saviour hung on 
the cross a pitying swallow, perching there, peered sorrow- 
fully down and twitted "Hugsvala, svala, svala. Honom!" 
("Console, console, console Him!") 

The Russian peasant believes that on the 25th of March 
the swallow comes flying from Paradise to bring warmth to 
the earth, while other Europeans believe that she comes before 
Maundy Thursday to be present at the commemoration of the 
crucifixion. 

214 



SWALLOW LORE 

In Bohemia in the springtime if one swallow is first seen 
by a maiden she will be married during the year; if a pair, 
she will remain single. 

Once upon a time the present to a lady of a gold ring 
that had lain in a swallow's nest nine days inspired love in 
her breast for the donor. 

The heart of a swallow worn around the neck was sup- 
posed to render the wearer attractive; the same amulet was 
used to strengthen memory. 

In Ireland the peasants believe that there is a certain 
hair on every one's head, which, if picked off by a swallow, 
dooms the man to perdition. 

In Norfolk they say that when swallows congregate 
about churches before departing for the South they are de- 
ciding who shall die before their return. 

If a swallow flies under a cow she gives bloody milk and 
is said to be "swallow struck." She may be cured by sprink- 
ling her milk on the spot where roads cross. 

An old French legend says that it was the swallow that 
removed the crown of thorns from the brow of Christ, and 
that a thorn, piercing her breast, gave it the ruddy dye. 

Pliny tells of the swallow curing blindness in her 
progeny by the use of the swallow herb, a magic.plant which, 
if taken from her and carried in the pocket, would insure 
wealth to the possessor. 

215 



MAGPIE LORE 

ANOTHER story of the magpie's nest-building differs 
from the one already told in that the magpie was the 
teacher. 

The magpie is said to be the only bird that did not 
go into the ark with Noah. Instead, she sat on the roof and 
chattered of disaster. 

In most sections the magpie is considered a bird of evil 
omen, though she occasionally prophesies births and wed- 
dings. 

An old rhyme gives the import of her prophecies : 

"One is sorrow, two is mirth, 
Three a wedding, four a birth, 
Five for silver, six for gold, 
Seven for a secret, not to be told ; 
Eight for heaven, nine for hell, 
'Ten for the de'il's ain sel'." 

— Northumberland, 

In England one magpie was thought to be a sign of 
bad weather, while two betokened fair, because, when chill- 
ing winds blew, only one bird could leave the nest in quest 
of food ; but when the day was mild or warm, both might go 
forth without causing the young to suffer. 

216 



MAGPIE LORE 

In mythology she is the bird of Bacchus. 

In Germany her chattering is prophetic of coming 
guests. 

From its thieving habits, the magpie is called the "egg- 
lift" in Lincolnshire. 

In Scotland the perching of a magpie on a house is be- 
lieved to foretell the death of a child. 

In Germany it is believed that witches assume magpie 
form — or that they ride on the backs of these birds. 

In Scotland the magpie was once called the "devil's 
bird," and was believed to have the devil's blood in his tongue. 
If her tongue was scratched and a drop of human blood in- 
serted, it was believed that she would receive the gift of 
speech. 

In England, when an unlucky number of these birds 
is seen by the superstitious, a cross is made in the air, or the 
hat removed and a bow made to the birds, to neutralize the 
charm. With crossed thumbs this rhyme is often repeated: 
"I cross the magpie, 

The magpie crosses me; 

Bad luck to the magpie, 

And good luck to me." 
The sight of a crow will also break the charm — or spitting 
over the shoulder — or crossing the feet — or making the sign 
of the cross on the breast. 



217 



ROBIN LORE 

ON seeing the suffering of our Lord on the cross, the 
robin in pity plucked a thorn, which pierced his 
brow, from the torturing crown. The blood from 
the tender heart of the robin gushed forth as the sharp thorn 
entered his own breast, producing a crimson stain that re- 
mains to this day. 

—A Breton Legend. 



The robin, as well as the swallow and the woodpecker, 
was classed as a fire-bringer. Each bears a red mark to 
fortify the claim. A correspondent of Notes and Queries sent 
this story told by a Caermarthenshire nurse to a child under 
her care : ' 'Far, far away in a land of woe, dwell darkness, 
and spirits of evil and fire. Day by day does the little bird 
bear in his bill a drop of water to quench the flame. So near 
to the burning stream does he fly, that his dear little feathers 
are scorched, and hence he is named Bronrhuddyn (breast- 
burned or breast-scorched). To serve little children, the 
robin dares approach the infernal pit. No good child will 
hurt the devoted benefactor of man. The robin returns from 
the land of fire, and therefore he feels the cold of winter far 
more than his brother birds. He shivers in the brumal 

218 



ROBIN LORE 

blast; hungry, he chirps before your door. Oh, my child, 
then, in gratitude, throw a few crumbs to poor redbreast!" 

Shakespeare refers to the robin as "the ruddock with 
charitable bill." 

In Germany and the British Isles the killing of a robin 
causes the cow of the slayer to give bloody milk. 

In Bohemia the destruction of a robin's nest is believed 
to bring palsy to the hands of the destroyer, while in the 
Tyrol such a wrongdoer is expected to be visited by epilepsy. 
In Suffolk a broken leg is the natural result of breaking the 
eggs of a robin. 

The story of the "Babes in the Wood," taken from a 
play written in 1601, is but an expression of the still older 
belief that robins cover dead bodies with leaves, on finding 
them unburied. 

"The robin redbreast, if he find a man or woman dead, 

will cover his face with moss; and some think that if the 

body should remain unburied he will cover the whole body." 

] ^-Johnson's "Cornucopia" published late in the sixteenth 

century. 

THE ROBIN 

My old Welsh neighbor, over the way, 
Crept slowly out in the sun of spring, 

Pushed from her ears the locks of gray, 
And listened to hear the robin sing. 

219 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Her grandson, playing at marbles, stopped, 

And, cruel in sport as boys will be, 
Tossed a stone at the bird, who hopped 

From bough to bough in the apple tree. 

'Nay!" said the grandmother; "have you not heard, 

My poor, bad boy, of the fiery pit, 
And how, drop by drop, this merciful bird 

Carries the water that quenches it? 

'He brings cool dew in his little bill, 

And lets it fall on the souls of sin; 
You can see the mark on his red breast still, 

Of fires that scorch as he drops it hi. 

'My poor bron rhuddyn! My breast-burned bird, 
Singing so sweetly from limb to limb! 

Very dear to the heart of our Lord 
Is he who pities the lost like him!" 

'Amen!" I said to the beautiful myth; 

"Sing, bird of God, in my heart as well; 
Each good thought is a drop wherewith 
To cool and lessen the fires of hell." 

Prayers of love like raindrops fall, 

Tears of pity are cooling dew; 
And dear to the heart of our Lord are all 

Who suffer like Him in the good they do. 

Whittier. 
220 



ROBIN LORE 



A BRETON LEGEND 



"Bearing His cross, while Christ passed forth forlorn, 
His God-like forehead by the mock crown torn, 
A little bird took from that crown one thorn, 
To soothe the dear Redeemer's throbbing head. 
That bird did what she could; His blood, 'tis said, 
Etown dropping, dyed her tender bosom red. 
Since then no wanton boy disturbs her nest; 
Weasel nor wildcat will her young molest; 
All sacred deem the bird of ruddy breast." 

Hoskyns-Abrahall — The Redbreast. 



ni 



RAVEN LORE 

ORIGIN OF THE RAVEN 

TRUE it is — and it would be an injustice to conceal 
the fact, much more to deny it — that ravens of 
old fed Elijah ; but that was the punishment of 
some old sin committed by two who before the flood bore the 
human shape, and who, soon after the ark rested on Mount 
Ararat, flew off to the desolation of swamped forests and the 
disfigured solitudes of the drowned glens. Dying ravens 
hide themselves from daylight in burial places among the 
rocks, and are seen hobbling into their tombs, as if driven 
thither by a flock of fears, and crouching under a remorse 
that disturbs instinct, even as if it were conscience. So sings 
and says the Celtic superstition — muttered to us in a dream 
— adding that there are raven ghosts ; great black bundles of 
feathers, forever in the forest, night-hunting in famine for 
prey, emitting a last feeble croak at the blush of dawn, and 
then all at once invisible." 

— Wilson's "Recreations of Christopher North" 

ORIGIN OF CROWS — ESKIMO 

In the moon of falling leaves, an Indian mother, the wife 
of a chief, took with Jier into the forest her children that they 



RAVEN LORE 

might help her in gathering spruce boughs to be used in col- 
lecting the eggs of salmon. Leaving the children to watch a 
pile of boughs on the beach, she returned to find them gone. 
On calling to them to return she was answered only by the 
voices of crows flying about over the forest. For their wan- 
dering and disobedience they were doomed to live in this form 
f orevermore, and to this day crows are carved on the totems 
of all of their tribe. 



A HEBRIDES FABLE 

A crow never can be put to shame. The lapwing, 
who, as every one knows, has a habit of repeating him- 
self, said to the crow: "I never saw your like for stealing 
eggs, for stealing eggs." The crow, rubbing his beak on the 
grass, replied: "Nor did we ourselves, though it is we who 
are older." __ j ourna i f Am. Folk Lore. 



WHY RAVENS ARE BLACK— A TYROLESE STORY 

In the old days ravens were of beautiful appearance, 
with plumage as white as snow, which they kept clean by 
constant washing in a stream. To this stream came once 
upon a time the Holy Child desiring to drink, but the ravens 
prevented him by splashing about and making muddy the 
water. Whereupon He said: "Ungrateful birds! Proud 
you may be of your beauty, but your feathers so snowy white 
shall become black and remain so till the Judgment Day," 
and so they have been ever since. 

Zingerle. 

223 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

In the myth of the metamorphosis of Coronis by Apollo 
as told by Ovid, the raven, once white, was turned black for 
deceitful conduct. 

"The raven flies not straight like other birds, but crooked 
because cursed by Noah." 

THE CROW STONE 

"On the first of April boil the eggs taken out of a crow's 
nest until they are hard, and being cold, let them be placed 
in the nest as they were before. When the crow knows this 
she flies a long way to find the stone, and returns with it to 
her nest, and the eggs being touched with it they become 
fresh and prolific. The stone must be immediately snatched 
out of the nest. Its virtue is to increase riches, to bestow 
honors, and foretell future events." 

Leonardus Camillus — Mirror of Stones. 

In Brittany two crows are said to come and perch on 
the house-roof when the head of the family is about to die. 
Two crows are there assigned to every family to foretell 
family events. 

— Journal of Folk Lore, Vol. XI. 

Hindoos gave food to the crows as to the souls of the 
dead. 

— Zoological Mythology, p. 253. 

In Switzerland a crow perching on the roof of a house 
in which a corpse lies means that the soul of the dead is lost. 

Swainson. 

£24 



RAVEN LORE 

"In Sussex the cry of the crow thrice repeated is con- 
sidered a sure sign of death." 

In Bohemia, peasants declare that from springtime up 
to St. Lawrence's, or, according to some, St. Bartholomew's 
Day, the crows dare not roost in the forest or on trees, be- 
cause they were the birds who pecked out the eyes of St. 
Lawrence, or, as some say, of St. Carlo Borromeo. The 
children are also told on the birth of a baby that it was 
brought to the house by crows, who let it fall down the chim- 
ney. 

Grohmann. 

"In Andalusia, if the raven is heard croaking over a 
house, an unlucky day is expected; repeated thrice, it is a 
fatal presage." If perching high, turning and croaking, a 
corpse will come from that direction. 

In some parts of Europe the raven is supposed to have 
the power of bringing infection. 

"Saturday is the raven's day, and woe to the armies 
that fall on that day under the gloom of its ominous wing." 
—Robinson's "Poet's Birds/' p. 381. 

WEATHER LORE 

"When crows fly low it is a sign of rain." 

When rooks or crows stay at home or return early in 

the day, rain should be expected; if they fly far away it 

will be fair. 

— Devonshire. 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

Ravens bring the summer rain. 



— Greece. 



When rooks congregate on the dead branches of trees 
there will be rain before night; if they sit on the live 
branches, the day will be fine. 

^-Yorkshire. 



226 



V 



WOODPECKER LORE 

ARIATIONS of the Gertrude story are told in other 
lands of the owl, cuckoo and lapwing. 



In Norway the woodpecker is called "Gertrude's fowl." 



In Greek fable, Palytechus was changed to a wood- 
pecker. 



FRENCH STORY OF THE WOODPECKER 

In the beginning, when the earth had been created but 
had not yet been given permanent form, the birds were told 
to hollow out with their beaks places in the form of lakes, 
rivers and pools, that would be filled later with water. All 
obeyed except the indolent woodpecker, who, because of her 
refusal, was denied the privilege of even drinking from the 
cavities made by other birds ; she should drink nothing save 
rain, and should get that as she could. And so it is that she 
ever calls to the clouds, "Rain, rain," and that she ever keeps 
an upward attitude that she may receive in her open beak the 
drops which fall from the leaves. 

227 



BIRD LEGEND AND LIFE 

The woodpecker is said to laugh before rain because the 
insects on which it feeds come out of their hiding places at 
that time. 

In Germany a woodpecker flying to the right was an 
omen of good fortune. 

Because of his blood-red coat and fiery eye the woodpecker 
is known in mythology as the bird of Mars. 

Because his name was too sacred to use, the Greeks 
spoke of the woodpecker as the "tree chiseller" or "hewer 
with an ax.* 

In German legends we are told that the woodpecker 
knows where grows the magic Springwurzel, the herb which 
will enable the possessor to open the closed doors of moun- 
tain rocks ; to enter and bear away the treasures of the Venus- 
berg. Pliny also tells of the woodpecker bringing the spring- 
wort. 

The Italians worshiped in the woodpecker the great 
god Picus, and the Esthonians their rain and thunder god, 
Pikne or Pikker. In 1644 Johann Gutsloff noted the prayer 
of the old Esthonian farmer: "Beloved Piker, we will 
sacrifice to thee an ox with two horns and four hoofs, and 
want to beg you as to our ploughing and sowing that our 
straw shall be red as copper and our grain as yellow as 
gold. Send elsewhither all black, thick clouds over great 
swamps, high woods and wide wastes. But give to us plough- 
men and sowers a fertile season and sweet rain." 

228 



WOODPECKER LORE 

Whoever takes honey from the hive with the beak of a 
woodpecker will not be stung. 

It is believed in Italy that this bird purveyed to Romu- 
lus after the wolfly fountains failed. 



NL ' • 



